IKBIB* 

tRARY 


ENCES 


LIBRARY 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA, 


Class 


OF   THE 

UNIVERSITY 

OF 


THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

OF 

NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE 
SHALER 


WITH  A  SUPPLEMENTARY  MEMOIR 
BY  HIS  WIFE 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
C&e  Etbcwtte  JJteaa 

1909 


COPYRIGHT,    1909,   BY   SOPHIA   P.   SHALER 
ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED 

Published  June  iqoq 


NOTE 

The  autobiographical  part  of  this  volume  is  given  almost  exactly 
as  Mr.  Shaler  left  it  on  his  tablet:  one  might  almost  say  warm 
from  his  hands;  the  pencil  with  which  he  wrote  it  having  been  used 
to  make  the  few  corrections,  —  that  is,  here  and  there  to  rewrite  a 
word  that  was  illegible. 

In  the  preparation  of  the  memoir  I  gratefully  acknowledge  the 
aid  of  those  kind  friends  who  have  furnished  a  fact,  a  letter,  or  a 
suggestion,  but  especially  am  I  indebted  to  Mr.  Ferris  Greensletfor 
his  generous  interest  and  for  his  literary  judgment  exercised  so 
greatly  to  the  profit  of  the  reader ;  also  to  Mr.  William  R.  Thayer, 
ever  faithful  to  the  memory  of  his  old  teacher. 

S.  P.  S. 


CONTENTS 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

I.  MY  ANCESTORS  AND  PARENTS 3 

IE.  RECOLLECTIONS  or  CHILDHOOD  ......       26 

III.  MY  DESULTORY  EDUCATION 49 

IV.  FIRST  VISITS  FROM  HOME 66 

V.  SOME  KENTUCKY  MAGNATES 71 

VI.  POLITICAL  CLOUDS  GATHER 82 

VII.  I  BECOME  AGASSIZ'S  PUPIL  AT  HARVARD     .        .        .        .90 

VIII.  SOME  COLLEGE  COMPANIONS 118 

IX.  CRUISING  AND  CAMPING 130 

X.  AN  EXPEDITION  TO  THE  GULF  OF  ST.  LAWRENCE     .        .      139 

XI.  ANTICOSTI  AND  LABRADOR 150 

XII.  THE  FIRST  YEAR  OF  THE  WAR 170 

XIII.  MY  LAST  YEAR  AT  HARVARD 179 

XIV.  CAMBRIDGE  AND  BOSTON  CELEBRITIES       .        .       .        .      193 
XV.   OFF  TO  THE  WAR 207 

THE  MEMOIR 

FOREWORD.   1859-1862        ......  .215 

XVI.  THE  WAR.   1862-1867    .     ' .219 

XVII.  WALKS  AND  TALKS  ABROAD.  1866-1868  .        .        .  .228 

XVIII.  TEACHING  AND  EXPLORING.  1869-1873         .        .        .  .247 

XIX.  ENGLAND.   1872-1873 265 

XX.  FIELD  WORK.   1873-1879  .  270 


viii  CONTENTS 

XXL  ITALY.  1881-1882        .        ......        .      299 

XXII.  SOME  FAMILIAR  LETTERS.   1882-1888    ...        .        .325 

XXIII.  MINE  PROSPECTING  AND  OTHER  EXPERIENCES.  1881-1891    334 

XXIV.  COUNTRY  LIVING 348 

XXV.   THE  TEACHER.   1864^1905 361 

XXVI.  ADMINISTRATIVE  WORK.  1891-1903 386 

XXVII.  LAST  YEARS.   1904-1905     .        .        .        .        .        .        .402 

XXVIII.  PERSONAL  CHARACTERISTICS 412 

XXIX.   LITERARY  WORK 424 

LIST  OF  PUBLICATIONS 447 

INDEX 459 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER.  Photogravure  Frontispiece 

From  a  photograph  by  Prof.  Charles  R.  Sanger,  1901 

WILLIAM  SHALER,  Consul  of  the  United  States  at  Algiers,  1815            .  6 

RICHARD  SOUTHGATE,  Mr.  Shakr's  grandfather       ....  18 

NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER  AS  A  CHILD 28 

From  a  daguerreotype 

MR.  SHALER'S  EARLY  HOME  IN  NEWPORT,  KENTUCKY.        .       .  44 

NATHANIEL  BURGER  SHALER,  Mr.  Shakr's  father       ....  68 

MR.  SHALER  IN  1865 226 

GEOLOGIZING  IN  SILHOUETTE 280 

THE  QUINCY  STREET  HOUSE  IN  CAMBRIDGE  .       .       .       .       .  344 

THE  HOUSE  AT  SEVEN  GATES 350 

MR.  SHALER  ON  HIS  FARM 356 

HILLS  OF  MARTHA'S  VINEYARD 360 

From  an  etching  by  Philip  Sawyer 

MR.  SHALER  IN  1894 372 

MR.  SHALER  IN  1900 386 

PORTRAIT  OP  MR.  SHALER  BY  JOSEPH  DE  CAMP  ....  400 

Presented  to  the  Harvard  Union  "  in  affectionate  memory  "  by  the  Harvard 
Class  of  1908 

BAS-RELIEF  OF  MR.  SHALER 426 

By  Leila  Usher,  1908 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 


THE  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 

CHAPTER  I 

MY   ANCESTORS   AND   PARENTS 

IT  is  duly  recorded  in  a  family  Bible,  there  being  then  and  there 
no  other  means  of  recording  such  events,  that  I  was  born  in  the 
then  village  of  Newport,  Kentucky,  on  February  20,  1841.  I 
was  the  second  child  of  Nathaniel  Burger  Shaler  and  Ann  Hinde 
Southgate,  having  had  an  elder  brother  who  died  in  infancy. 
My  parents  had  been  married  in  1834 ;  at  the  time  of  my  birth 
my  father  was  thirty-six  years  of  age  and  my  mother  twenty- 
five.  Three  other  children  survived  to  maturity,  the  one  early 
death  apparently  having  been  due  to  accident. 

Although  the  time  when  a  man  comes  into  the  world  and 
the  place  where  he  appears  are  in  certain  ways  important  and 
may  well  begin  his  story,  the  really  weighty  question  concerns 
his  inheritances  and  the  conditions  in  which  they  were  devel- 
oped. That  he  brings  with  him  something  that  is  in  a  measure 
independent  of  all  his  progenitors,  a  certain  individuality  which 
makes  him  distinct  in  essentials  from  like  beings  he  succeeds, 
is  true  —  vastly  true  ;  but  the  way  he  is  to  go  is,  to  a  great 
extent,  shaped  by  those  who  sent  him  his  life.  I  shall,  therefore, 
do  what  I  can  to  set  forth  the  nature  of  the  people  through 
whom  I  came. 

As  is  usual  with  Americans,  I  cannot  clearly  trace  my  an- 
cestors beyond  the  sea,  or  for  more  than  four  or  five  genera- 
tions back.  On  my  name  side  it  is  fairly  certain  that  the 
source  was  in  central  England,  in  the  Warwickshire  district, 
with  folk  who  in  the  seventeenth  century  bore  the  name  in  the 
form  of  Shayler  or  Shaylor.  Thence  they  seem  to  have  moved 


4      NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

to  the  island  of  Jamaica,  in  that  time  when  England  thought 
to  make  it  a  tropical  Britain.  They  did  not  long  remain  there, 
but  removed  to  Connecticut,  where  the  first  of  them  settled  in 
Haddam.  His  descendants  remained  in  that  district  and  became 
rather  numerous;  some  abide  there  to  this  day.  For  a  time 
they  seem  to  have  maintained  relations  with  Jamaica,  since 
it  is  written  that  sundry  of  them  were  drowned  in  going  to 
and  fro.  They  seem  to  have  been  farmers  with  a  propensity 
for  fighting.  It  is  told  that  they  had  some  share  as  subalterns 
in  the  small  military  affairs  of  that  and  the  following  century. 
The  only  sign  of  peculiar  enterprise  was  the  beginning  of  the 
work  of  quarrying  the  red  sandstone  of  the  Connecticut  valley, 
which  business  is  credited  to  my  great-great-great-grand- 
father. 

Some  time  in  the  early  part  of  the  eighteenth  century,  my 
great-grandfather  established  himself  at  Berkenridge  New  Ferry, 
where  he  seems  to  have  been  a  considerable  landowner.  During 
the  Revolutionary  War,  he  appears  to  have  played  a  subordi- 
nate part  as  a  soldier.  He  is  said  to  have  built  the  fortifications 
at  Ocracoke  Inlet  at  his  own  cost.  As  with  most  other  families 
of  that  time  of  divisions,  some  went  with  the  Rebels  and  some 
stayed  with  the  King.  In  my  youth,  that  ancient  difference 
was  still  well  remembered;  certain  of  the  clan  were  looked 
down  upon,  even  denied  the  rights  of  hospitality,  because  they 
were  the  grandchildren  of  the  Tories.  I  remember  that  when 
one  of  the  name  came  to  my  father's  house  to  claim  kinship, 
he  had  to  face  a  hard  questioning  about  the  politics  of  his 
ancestor. 

My  great-grandfather  of  Berkenridge  died  during  the  Revo- 
lutionary War,  leaving  what  in  that  day  and  place  was  a  con- 
siderable property,  and  a  family  of  three  sons  and  a  daughter. 
A  faithless  trustee  made  away  with  the  estate,  leaving  the 
children  penniless.  The  lads,  for  they  were  all  mere  children, 
seem  promptly  to  have  betaken  themselves  to  the  sea  for  a 
livelihood,  and  two  of  them  won  to  rather  distinguished  success 


THE  STORY  OF  WILLIAM  SEALER  5 

and  were  soon  able  to  care  for  their  sister  in  a  dignified  way. 
Of  these  brave  boys  I  have  the  full  story  of  but  one,  the  second 
in  age,  William,  whose  career  was  of  some  eminence,  and  in 
many  ways  noteworthy.  The  basis  of  my  information  is  cer- 
tain fragments  of  his  diaries  and  some  printed  records  of  his 
service  as  consul  of  the  United  States  to  the  Barbary  powers 
and  at  Havana,  as  well  as  his  published  writings,  which,  though 
not  extensive,  are  considerable.  While  they  tell  much,  there  is 
evidently  much  left  untold  concerning  this  man,  who  had  a 
touch  of  greatness  in  him  which  carried  him  well  through  an 
adventurous  life. 

William  Shaler  was  born  in  176-.  At  the  age  of  thirteen  he 
went  to  sea  on  a  merchantman.  Nine  years  thereafter,  he  was 
master  of  a  ship  which  appears  to  have  been  engaged  in  foreign 
trade.  From  the  beginning  of  his  career  as  a  seafarer  he  sup- 
ported his  sister.  He  was  evidently  a  zealous  student,  for  he 
became  a  good  navigator,  and  gave  himself  a  fair  training  in 
the  classics  as  well  as  in  French  and  Arabic.  His  English  is  a 
model  of  clearness  and  simplicity.  He  seems  to  have  been  suc- 
cessful as  a  trading  shipmaster,  but  to  have  been  in  some  way 
involved  in  the  French  Revolution.  Just  what  part  he  took  is 
not  clear.  After  the  close  of  this  episode,  he  bought  a  ship  in 
Copenhagen,  provided  it  with  stores  for  trading,  and  set  forth 
with  his  friend,  Cleveland,  on  a  voyage  about  the  world.  Their 
cruise  occupied  several  years.  The  story  of  it  is  told  in  Cleve- 
land's narrative,  a  curious,  yet  forgotten,  book.  As  fitted  those 
times,  the  voyage  led  to  diverse  adventures,  including  an  im- 
prisonment by  the  Spanish  authorities  in  Chili  and  the  refusal 
of  Mr.  Shaler  to  go  forth  from  the  jail  until  there  was  a  proper 
explanation  concerning  the  reasons  why  he  was  put  in,  and 
an  apology  for  the  outrage  to  which  he  had  been  subjected. 
His  exasperation  led  to  a  project  for  arming  and  leading  the 
natives  of  southern  Chili  and  Patagonia  against  the  Spaniards. 
To  carry  out  this  plan  the  ship  was  sailed  back  to  Europe  in 
order  to  dispose  of  its  cargo  of  furs,  obtained  on  the  western 


6      NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

coast  of  North  and  South  America,  and  to  procure  arms.  The 
plan  was  chimeric  and  was  not  carried  out. 

We  next  find  William  Shaler  engaged  in  government  employ- 
ment, apparently  occupied  in  watching  the  actions  of  the 
River  Company  in  the  region  of  the  lower  Mississippi.  While 
thus  engaged,  he  recorded  certain  phenomena  connected  with 
the  New  Madrid  earthquakes  of  1811.  He  was  upon  a  "broad- 
horn"  boat  which  was  carried  some  distance  upstream  by  the 
reflux  of  the  current  due  to  the  widespread  subsidence  of  the 
alluvial  plains,  caused  by  the  shocks  and  the  movement  of 
the  river  waters  into  the  depressed  areas.  His  steadiness  under 
disturbance  and  his  aptitude  for  seeing  clearly  at  such  times  is 
well  shown  in  his  narrative  of  the  event. 

The  most  interesting  part  of  William  Shaler's  life  was  the 
period  when  he  was  the  consul  of  the  United  States  at  Algiers, 
to  which  post  he  was  appointed  by  President  Madison  in  1815. 
At  that  time  the  Dey  was  still  the  "scourge  of  Christendom." 
Nothing  so  well  shows  the  gain  in  the  power  of  civilization  as  the 
fact  that  a  century  ago  those  malignant  despots  were  allowed, 
as  they  had  been  since  the  Middle  Ages,  to  exact  tribute  from 
all  the  maritime  powers  of  Europe,  to  ravage  their  commerce 
and  enslave  their  citizens  captured  on  the  high  seas.  At  this 
moment  there  is  sitting  at  Algeciras  a  convention  of  the  civil- 
ized states  to  take  action  concerning  the  internal  affairs  of  the 
last  of  the  Mahometan  states  on  the  African  shore.  Now,  as  of 
old,  it  is  not  the  strength  of  the  petty  despotism  that  limits 
action,  but  the  rivalries  and  suspicions  of  the  Western  Powers 
and  the  fear  of  trouble  with  the  Mussulman  world. 

When  William  Shaler  went  to  Algiers  as  consul-general  to  the 
Barbary  States,  in  effect  as  minister  of  his  government,  the 
Dey  was  still  the  insolent  despot  he  had  been  for  centuries. 
It  is  told  that  Mr.  Shaler  at  his  presentation  at  court,  break- 
ing through  the  ancient  rule  that  the  representatives  of  the 
Christian  governments  should  come  barefooted  and  uncovered 
before  the  monarch,  made  his  appearance  in  jack-boots,  with 


WILLIAM  SHALER 


THE  STORY  OF  WILLIAM  SHALER  7 

pistols  in  his  belt.  In  this  guise  he  was  received,  and  by  his  fear- 
lessness he  acquired  a  good  deal  of  influence  over  the  tyrant. 
Another  example  of  his  steady  quality  is  given  in  the  account 
of  Abercrombie's  bombardment  of  Algiers,  where  the  landing 
parties,  when  the  guns  of  the  Algerines  had  been  silenced 
and  the  water-front  of  the  town  was  in  ruins,  found  him  at 
dinner  in  his  arbor,  he  having  compelled  his  servants  to  serve 
him  through  the  action. 

At  the  end  of  his  service  as  consul-general,  William  Shaler, 
disgusted  with  the  state  of  affairs  in  the  principality,  went  to 
France  and  had  much  to  do  in  persuading  the  French  to  invade 
and  occupy  the  country,  acting  as  the  adviser  of  that  govern- 
ment in  its  plans  for  the  expedition,  particularly  in  the  opera- 
tions which  led  to  the  capture  of  Algiers.  For  this  service  he 
received  and  refused  the  offer  of  a  sum  of  money  said  to  have 
been  the  equivalent  of  a  hundred  thousand  dollars.  Of  his  long 
residence  in  Algeria  he  left,  as  records,  his  sketches  of  Algiers 
and  an  account  of  the  government,  —  both  worthy  essays, 
which  show  him  to  have  had  a  certain  observing  power.  He 
left  behind  him  a  memory  of  good  service  which  is  recorded 
by  a  tablet  in  the  Episcopal  Church  at  Algiers,  placed  there  by 
those  who  never  saw  him  but  knew  by  tradition  of  his  quality. 

After  his  experience  with  the  Algerines,  William  Shaler 
turned  again  to  business  with  the  sea,  and,  as  seemed  to  be 
recurrent  with  him,  made  and  lost  much  money,  but  saved  out 
of  the  wreck  enough  to  provide  well  for  his  sister  and  other 
dependents  of  the  younger  generation.  His  life  ended  as  consul 
at  Havana  in  1832,  where  he  died  of  cholera.  When  the  end 
was  near,  he  sent  away  his  secretary  and  other  attendants, 
telling  them  they  needed  their  rest  and  that  they  could  attend 
to  his  body  in  the  morning.  When  they  came  back  they  found 
his  body  lying  straight  in  shape  for  the  grave.  He  was  of  the 
quality  that  dares  to  die  alone  in  the  dark. 

The  second  son  of  this  household  seems  to  have  been  a  dare- 
devil ne'er-do-well,  who  wound  up  an  adventurous  career  as  a 


8      NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

prisoner  of  war  at  Dartmoor  in  England,  where  he  was  shot 
leading  a  revolt  against  the  jailers.  Captives  were  not  well 
treated  in  those  days,  and  by  all  accounts  those  at  Dartmoor 
fared  hardly.  The  stories  I  heard  in  my  youth  of  this  man  indi- 
cate that  he  was  a  person  of  ability  but  with  little  worth  noting 
except  a  certain  reckless  valor. 

The  third  of  his  generation,  my  father's  father,  like  his 
brother  William  took  to  the  sea  when  he  was  a  lad  and  soon 
rose  to  the  command  of  his  own  ship  and  just  before  the  War 
of  1812  was  a  prosperous  merchant  dwelling  in  New  York  City. 
As  the  embargo  and  the  war  ruined  him,  he  turned  privateer, 
and  in  a  succession  of  vessels  was  fortunate  in  his  plundering 
work,  so  that  he  in  a  measure  recouped  his  losses.  The  last  of 
these  vessels  that  he  commanded  was  built  for  fast  sailing  and 
was  for  a  time  very  successful  in  overhauling  East  Indiamen. 
From  the  many  printed  accounts  of  his  adventures  and  from  his 
letters,  he  appears  to  have  been  a  man  of  courage,  who  kept 
his  head  in  peril,  and  was  withal  of  a  simple  generous  nature. 
One  of  his  letters  tells  of  the  bravery  of  certain  black  men 
among  his  crew  who  had  been  his  slaves  before  they  shipped. 
At  the  end  of  three  years  of  this  legalized  buccaneering,  Captain 
Shaler's  ship  vanished  from  the  sea.  To  explain  the  disap- 
pearance there  is  the  story  of  some  East  Indiamen  sailing 
together  for  protection  who  were  set  upon  by  an  American 
ship:  at  the  outset  of  the  attack  came  a  squall,  and  when  it 
cleared  away  the  privateer  was  not  to  be  seen.  It  is  supposed 
that  she  "sailed  under,"  which  is  made  probable  by  the  form  of 
canvas  she  carried  and  the  shape  of  her  bows. 

I  have  seen  but  one  man  who  remembered  my  great-grand- 
father. He  recalled  him  as  a  stately  person  who  had  very  good 
horses  in  his  carriage.  Another  remembered  my  grandfather  as 
a  very  gentle  man,  with  a  delicate,  womanish  face,  one  side  of 
which  was  blackened  with  gunpowder,  as  my  informant  said, 
from  an  adversary's  pistol  in  a  "boarding"  fight.  Of  my  great- 
uncle  William  Shaler  I  have  had  accounts  from  several  persons, 


GREAT-AUNT  ABIGAIL  STILWELL  9 

especially  from  the  late  George  Ticknor,  well  remembered  as  the 
historian  of  Spanish  literature,  who  knew  him  and  bore  his 
memory  in  high  esteem.  These  agree  in  that  they  all  described 
him  as  a  singularly  impressive  personality  of  a  great  dauntless 
aspect,  but  at  heart  lovable. 

Only  one  of  that  generation,  the  sister,  Abigail  Stilwell,  lived 
to  my  day.  Her  brother  William  had  established  her  in  a 
rather  stately  place  in  Lancaster,  Massachusetts,  with  her  three 
children  and  the  four  left  by  his  brother  the  privateer  captain. 
Thereto  I  went  in  1855  as  a  lad  of  fourteen  years,  in  company 
with  my  father  on  his  first  return  to  his  childhood  home,  after 
an  absence  of  a  quarter  of  a  century.  My  great-aunt  was  then 
a  venerable  woman,  over  eighty  years  of  age,  and  of  a  singular 
dignity,  it  may  well  be  said  splendor,  of  shape  and  manner. 
She  was  six  feet  in  height,  perfectly  erect,  clad  in  black  silkA 
capped  with  a  tall  white  turban,  and  armed  with  a  gold  snuff- 
box, to  which  she  much  resorted.  I  had  seen  several  great 
dames  of  the  Virginia  stamp  and  have  beheld  them  since  in 
many  lands,  but  none  of  them  compared  with  that  woman.  I  \ 
recall  even  now  the  fear  of  her  which  even  her  great  kindness  in  \ 
no  wise  cleared  away.  She  belonged  to  a  variety,  apparently 
now  extinct,  in  which  the  sense  of  personal  dignity  and  authority 
shaped  the  life.  It  is  characteristic  of  this  remarkable  woman 
that  she  was  found  dead  sitting  upright  in  her  chair  with  her 
snuff-box  in  her  hand. 

I  remember  that  I  was  curiously  interested  in  observing  that 
my  father,  whom  I  had  never  seen  awed  by  any  one,  was  visibly 
cowed  in  the  presence  of  his  aunt;  he  seemed,  indeed,  almost 
as  much  in  fear  of  her  as  I  was  myself.  I  also  recall  in  the  days 
of  that  visit  much  talk  on  the  part  of  my  great-aunt  of  matters 
which  dated  back  to  my  father's  youth ;  also  of  her  trials  with  a 
certain  Frenchwoman  then  dead,  who  had  been  entangled  in 
the  life  of  her  brother  William,  and  whom  she  had  taken  over 
with  the  rest  of  his  estate.  These  family  stories  attracted  me 
less  than  did  the  house  and  grounds  of  the  old  place.  The  dwell- 


10     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

ing  was  a  rather  massive  brick  structure,  in  large  grounds 
sloping  to  the  Nashua  River.  I  recall  that  the  doors  were  of 
mahogany  and  the  hinges  plated  with  silver.  Since  then  the 
dwelling  has  been  burned,  and  the  grounds  sold  to  the  state 
for  the  use  of  a  school.  The  considerable  library  of  William 
Shaler,  which  seemed  to  my  eyes  very  fine,  —  in  fact,  as  I 
know  from  competent  persons,  was  rich  in  the  old  standard 
editions  of  the  classics,  —  went  to  the  Boston  Public  Library. 

My  great-aunt  had  four  children :  a  daughter  Elizabeth,  then 
recently  dead,  had  been  married  to  an  interesting  fellow  who 
bore  the  name  of  David  Stuart,  a  very  attractive  Scot  who 
claimed  to  be  of  kingly  blood  and  looked  it  thoroughly,  but  was 
otherwise  rather  worthless;  there  had  been  three  sons,  but  one 
was  killed  in  the  Texan  battle  of  San  Jacinto.  Another  was  a 
physician  in  Sag  Harbor,  New  York;  and  the  third,  Elias 
Millard  Stilwell,  was  yet  with  his  mother,  at  the  end  of  varie- 
gated experiments  in  the  art  of  existing  beautifully.  Since  my 
father  and  Elias  Stilwell  were  double  cousins,  they  were  nearer 
akin  than  ordinary  cousins  german,  and  singularly  alike  in 
appearance.  This  likeness  is  indeed  curiously  common  in  those 
of  my  name  stock,  even  when  the  common  ancestor  is  four 
or  five  generations  back.  Partly  for  this  reason,  we  soon  came 
near  to  one  another  in  spirit ;  furthermore  he  had  an  eminent 
capacity  for  saying  things  aptly.  In  fact,  he  had  the  greatest 
capacity  for  phrasing  I  have  ever  known  in  a  man  who  was  too 
lazy  and  contentious  to  acquire  any  fair  semblance  of  an  edu- 
cation. As  a  young  man,  he  had  been  sent  to  West  Point,  but 
found  a  speedy  exit  because  he  thrashed  one  of  his  instructors. 
From  France,  where  he  went  as  clerk,  he  fought  his  way  home 
again.  Put  to  like  work  in  this  country,  he  had  ended  a  brief 
career  on  a  newspaper  beating  the  life  out  of  a  man  who  had 
assailed  him  for  some  well-merited  criticism.  A  curious  thing 
about  his  troubles  was  that  he  attributed  them  all  to  his  shy- 
ness, his  inability  to  come  into  normal  contact  with  men,  which 
led  him  when  in  any  way  assailed  to  turn  demon.  I  see  him  now 


A  WASTED  LIFE  11 

as  he  would  in  his  confidences  wail  to  me  of  this  curse  of  bash- 
fulness,  with  the  tears  streaming  down  his  face  of  old  bronze. 
He  was  fit  but  for  one  business,  that  of  the  hunter  and  fisher- 
man, and  he  found  in  middle  life  a  suitable  place  as  game  com- 
missioner in  the  state  of  Maine.  In  his  declining  years,  I  often 
visited  him  there,  and  had  my  pay  in  his  comments  on  men  and 
things  as  good  in  their  way  as  Thomas  Carlyle's.  I  have  seen 
many  wasted  lives,  but  none  where  as  much  natural  capacity 
as  his  was  fruitless.  As  with  many  other  self-indulgent  men,  x 
his  interests  became  in  the  end  limited  to  the  sports  of  hunting 
and  fishing  —  activities  which  call  on  the  primitive  motives  of 
men,  and  in  a  mature  person  indicate  a  degradation  of  the 
civilizing  motives.  So  passionately  was  he  devoted  to  such 
business,  that  he  warned  me  that  he  would  not  make  me  heir 
to  his  property  unless  I  would  go  with  him  for  a  month  in  search 
of  salmon.  I  felt  that  the  price  of  my  refusal  was  not  overmuch 
to  pay. 

My  father  had  two  brothers  and  a  sister.  The  eldest  brother, 
William,  I  never  saw :  he  was  a  well-educated  man,  having  been 
trained  at  the  University  of  Upsala  in  Sweden,  and  in  other 
European  schools,  at  the  cost  of  his  uncle  the  consul.  There 
was  evidently  a  tincture  of  worthlessness  in  him,  for  with  ability, 
a  fine  presence,  and  perfect  health  he  died  without  leaving  any 
sign  of  quality.  The  other  brother  showed  a  like  inability  to 
face  the  world.  I  knew  him  about  my  father's  house  when  I  was 
a  lad,  and  found  him  a  penetrating  intelligence,  a  mind  of  a 
distinctly  philosophic  power,  but  hampered  by  indolence  and 
self-indulgence.  The  sister,  my  aunt,  though  inheriting  much 
of  the  presence  of  her  aunt  Abigail,  had  not  her  commanding 
character.  She  was  married  to  a  dominating  brute  who  crushed 
out  the  considerable  talent  which  was  in  her. 

I  have  now  to  describe  my  father,  who  was  a  very  singular 
man.  I  foresee  that  I  shall  not  be  able  to  set  him  forth  in  his 
true  quality.  Born  in  1803,  he  was  but  a  lad  when  his  mother 
died  of  grief  for  her  vanished  husband.  There  was  money  enough 


12      NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

to  give  him  a  good  education ;  so  he  was  sent  to  school  in  Lan- 
caster, Massachusetts,  where  he  was  lodged  in  the  establishment 
which  his  uncle  had  prepared  for  those  of  his  generation. 
Thence  he  went,  as  all  the  boys  were  intended  to  go,  to  Harvard 
College,  where  he  entered  the  class  of  1827.  Although  he  had  a 
large  measure  of  ability,  he  was  only  moderately  successful  in 
his  studies.  Yet  he  gained  and  kept  to  old  age  a  fair  knowledge 
of  Latin  and  Greek  and  of  mineralogy  as  it  was  then  taught. 
His  combative  humor  led  him  into  trouble  with  his  teachers; 
he  therefore  withdrew  at  the  beginning  of  his  last  year,  and 
went  to  the  Medical  School,  where  he  had  as  preceptors  Drs. 
Channing  and  Jackson  and  was  much  influenced  by  Dr.  Warren. 
In  this  school  my  father  was  successful ;  for  he  had  a  distinct 
aptitude  for  the  tasks  of  a  physician,  and  for  a  part  of  his  life 
was  devoted  to  his  profession.  After  graduating,  —  the  course 
was  then  a  small  affair,  with  most  of  the  training  given  by  pre- 
ceptors, —  he  went  to  Havana,  where  his  uncle  was  consul, 
with  the  intention  of  making  his  career  in  that  place.  He  ap- 
pears to  have  been  successful  as  a  practitioner  and  to  have  accu- 
mulated some  money.  But  his  combative  motive  was  still  upon 
him,  and  in  two  years  he  started  in  search  of  some  other  spot 
"to  locate"  in.  This  he  found  as  by  chance  in  Newport,  Ken- 
tucky, then  a  little  village  with  no  educated  physician  and  with 
the  Asiatic  cholera  upon  it.  His  success  with  this  disease,  due 
to  his  resourcefulness  and  intrepidity,  quickly  gave  him  place 
among  the  people.  He  there  married  in  1832  Anne  Southgate, 
my  mother,  and  ceased  his  wanderings. 

I  first  distinctly  remember  my  father  when  he  was  about  forty- 
five  years  of  age.  He  was  then  of  a  singularly  noble  aspect.  I 
recollect  thinking  at  the  time  that  the  only  other  man  to  com- 
pare with  him  was  Robert  E.  Lee,  whom  I  first  saw  at  about 
that  time,  —  who  had  a  like  nobility  of  form  and  carriage, 
though  my  father  was  much  the  more  powerful  man.  Six  feet 
and  an  inch  high,  weighing  about  two  hundred  pounds,  straight 
limbed,  with  regular  Roman  features  and  with  a  certain  majesty 


HIS  FATHER  13 

of  carriage,  he  has  always  remained  with  me  as  the  type  of  what 
the  shape  of  man  should  be.  Though  I  have  seen  many  the 
world  about,  I  have  never  seen  a  better.  When  I  came  as  a 
youth  to  Harvard,  I  found  that  the  memory  of  his  form  abided 
not  only  with  his  classmates  but  with  many  of  the  common 
people,  —  as  well  as  his  propensity  for  fighting.  The  only  trace 
of  a  physical  defect  was  near-sightedness,  which  was  not  con- 
siderable enough  to  require  the  use  of  glasses ;  he  did  not  indeed 
use  them  to  the  end  of  his  life.  Otherwise  his  body  seemed  per- 
fect. He  had  been  well  trained  in  fencing  and  boxing,  and  he 
was  a  good  horseman  and  an  expert  swimmer.  Of  his  fighting 
habit,  for  which  he  had  an  unhappy  reputation  in  his  youth,  I 
recall  but  one  instance,  when  a  huge  negro  sprang  at  him  knife 
in  hand ;  he  struck  the  man  one  blow  which  threw  him  into  a 
heap.  Lad  though  I  was,  I  still  remember  the  change  in  the 
situation  when  my  father  in  a  moment  was  upon  the  fellow  to 
see  the  measure  of  his  hurts. 

As  regards  the  qualities  of  his  spirit,  my  father  was  absolutely, 
almost  brutally  honest  and  straightforward,  morally  clean  with 
no  trace  of  vice  or  even  bad  habits  except  that  he  smoked 
tobacco  in  moderation.  His  intelligence  was  acute,  though  in- 
tellectual matters  aside  from  natural  science  did  not  interest 
him.  Indeed  nothing  interested  him  greatly;  he  seemed  quite 
destitute  of  constructive  imagination,  and  though  in  some  meas- 
ure enjoying  poetry,  never  cared  to  read  it  except  to  seek  a 
quotation.  His  talk  related  generally  to  superficial  matters; 
when  the  conversation  led  to  the  deeps  he  would  after  mayhap 
a  word  or  two,  which  often  showed  a  singularly  penetrating 
intelligence,  leap  back,  as  if  affrighted,  to  the  commonplace. 
In  his  medical  practice  he  was  successful  in  difficult  cases,  those 
which  aroused  his  combativeness,  and  often  very  clever  in  ruses 
to  gain  his  ends.  Thus  I  have  known  him  to  help  a  stout  man 
on  the  verge  of  a  collapse  in  Asiatic  cholera,  by  reviling  him  as  a 
coward  until  the  fellow's  rage  helped  the  reaction.  Again,  when 
a  woman  who  was  sinking  needed  in  like  manner  to  be  aroused, 


14     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

he  became  interested  in  a  supposititious  dog-fight  which  he 
seemed  to  see  from  the  window,  hurried  away  to  observe  it,  and 
shortly  returned  to  find  her  in  a  fair  way  to  recovery  because  of 
her  indignation.  In  surgery  he  was  dexterous.  I  have  seen  him 
when  about  sixty  years  of  age  remove  an  iron  filing  from  a 
workman's  eye  with  the  point  of  a  common  needle,  and  this 
without  glasses.  His  hand  was  as  steady  as  it  was  nimble. 

During  a  large  part  of  my  father's  life  he  was  employed  by  the 
government  as  surgeon  at  Newport  Barracks.  This  was  a  con- 
venient place  whereto  were  forwarded  the  sick  soldiers  from  a 
wide  area.  Especially  during  the  Civil  War  it  was  a  kind  of 
dumping  ground  for  the  obstinate  cases  sent  in  from  the  field 
hospitals ;  yet,  as  I  have  been  credibly  informed,  the  proportion 
of  recoveries  was  larger  than  in  any  other  hospital  of  that  time. 
His  success  was  in  great  measure  due  to  his  distrust  of  remedies 
and  his  confidence  in  the  use  of  tents,  nutrition,  and  cheerful- 
ness. He  was  among  the  first  to  put  aside  the  singular  custom 
of  blood-letting,  not  having  used  the  lancet  after  1832.  When 
Surgeon-General  Hammond  issued  his  order  concerning  the  use 
of  calomel  in  the  army  hospitals,  he  offered  to  return  all  the 
supplies  of  that  drug  which  he  had  received,  unopened. 

My  father  had  capacities  for  the  making  of  a  great  physician 
and  surgeon,  yet  for  thirty  years  he  remained  content  with  a 
common  village  and  country  practice  and  that  which  the  bar- 
racks afforded ;  with  a  capacity  as  great  as  I  have  ever  seen  for 
breaking  new  ground  he  left  it  untilled.  The  reason  for  this  was 
an  ineradicable  indolence  of  spirit,  a  sense  that  nothing  in  this 
world  was  really  worth  striving  for ;  there  might  be  things  worth 
doing  because  there  was  immediate  duty  in  them,  but  it  was  not 
worth  while  seeking  for  duties  not  thrust  upon  him.  There  was 
money  enough,  which  came  through  my  mother,  for  comfort- 
able living,  so  why  should  he  strive?  The  Civil  War  roused  him 
strongly.  He  went  security  for  the  first  thousand  muskets 
which  came  into  the  hands  of  the  Kentucky  Unionists,  and 
sacrificed  much  for  the  cause  in  many  ways,  in  friendships  as 


HIS  FATHER  15 

well  as  in  money :  this  at  the  outset,  but  with  the  advance  of  the 
war  his  interest  in  it  as  in  all  else  gradually  flagged  —  nothing 
held  him  permanently. 

As  I  look  back  on  him,  I  discern  ever  more  clearly  what  I  saw 
in  a  measure  in  his  lifetime,  a  mark  of  the  commonplace  pre- 
sented to  the  world,  behind  which  the  large-natured,  able  per- 
sonality was  well  hidden  even  from  himself.  It  was  an  instance 
of  what  I  have  found  in  many,  found  even  in  myself  when  the 
consciousness  seems  to  be  abnormally  limited,  when  only  a 
small  and  the  lesser  part  of  the  intelligence  comes  into  its  illu- 
mination, the  greater  part  remaining  in  the  dark.  It  was  my 
father's  ideal  to  be  a  stoic,  to  put  aside  all  things  spiritual,  to 
regard  emotions  and  the  speculations  to  which  they  lead  as 
signs  of  weakness.  His  good  measure  of  will  power  united  with 
his  lethargic  humor  enabled  him  to  thrust  back  all  the  offerings 
of  his  spirit  and  to  keep  himself  in  the  ordinary  matters  of 
every-day  life. 

After  he  was  sixty  years  old  my  father  gave  up  reading,  and 
in  a  great  measure  withdrew  from  the  small  world  of  his  activi- 
ties. It  was  his  wont  to  sit  for  hours  looking  out  of  the  window, 
but  evidently  withdrawn  from  what  passed  before  his  sight.  If 
brought  back  by  a  sudden  question,  he  would  sometimes  reveal 
by  a  word  or  two  that  he  had  been  far  away  on  some  specula- 
tion, but  he  would  at  once  hide  the  trail  of  it  with  some  com- 
monplace remark.  So  far  as  I  can  remember,  but  once  or 
twice  in  my  contacts  with  him  the  deeps  broke  through  the 
well-constructed  barrier  and  revealed  a  part  of  what  was 
habitually  hidden.  After  those  chance  revelations  he  became 
at  once  more  obstinately  trivial  than  before,  as  if  to  protest 
against  the  momentary  enlargement  of  his  better  but  most 
artfully  concealed  self.  Since  I  was  often  near  him  until  he 
died  in  1882,  I  had  a  chance  to  see  the  strange  workings  of 
his  complex  personality,  and  to  form  the  opinion  that  the  basis 
of  the  suppression  of  his  better  part  was  an  intense  shyness, 
amounting  to  an  incapacity  to  reveal  himself,  with  the  result 


16     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

that  what  was  apparent  in  him  was  a  mere  screen  contrived  to 
hide  the  inner  man.  This  shamefaced  motive  is  in  some  measure 
so  common  among  men  that  it  is  almost  a  human  characteristic. 
We  generally  mask  the  best  that  is  in  us  and  find  our  modesty 
offended  if  we  are  found  out.  But  my  father's  case  was  a  most 
striking  instance  of  this  passion,  for  this  solitude  of  the  soul, 
combined  with  a  lethargic  quality,  kept  him  from  playing  the 
part  in  the  world  for  which  his  hidden  capacities  prepared  him. 
He  died  in  consequence  of  a  fall,  in  the  eightieth  year  of  his  age, 
after  having  apparently  completely  recovered  from  a  ten  years' 
siege  of  diabetes,  his  admirable  body  having  won  the  fight  with 
the  disease. 

So  far  as  my  limited  knowledge  goes,  none  of  the  collateral 
strains  of  blood  on  my  father's  side  gave  any  strength  to  his 
stock.  They  appear  to  have  been  of  pure  English  origin,  with 
an  intermixture  of  Welsh  and  a  cross  of  Hollandish,  which  came 
from  Van  Dykes,  some  few  generations  before  my  own.  On  his 
mother's  side,  there  seems  to  have  been  a  breed  of  a  placid 
quality,  indolent,  and  with  a  tendency  for  the  men  to  waste 
their  lives  and  squander  their  estates. 

My  mother's  family,  the  Southgates,  shows  in  the  five  genera- 
tions known  to  me  much  less  evidence  of  capacity  than  my 
father's.  Yet  there  is  some  sign  of  ability  among  them,  and 
many  of  them  were  interesting  people.  The  name  of  Southgate 
comes  from  the  sunny  side  of  London :  it  is  said  that  the  name 
is  from  the  place.  From  all  I  can  learn,  these  sunny-siders  have 
long  been  a  good  kind  of  rather  small  folk.  One  or  two  of  them 
have  come  to  some  intellectual  station  as  clergymen;  one,  by 
the  given  name  of  Henry,  as  a  very  minor  poet.  From  that  stock 
which  came  to  Virginia  in  the  early  part  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury was  Wright  Southgate,  my  great-grandfather,  who  became 
a  successful  merchant  and  planter,  amassing  a  share  of  wealth. 
He  seems  to  have  been  a  man  of  intellectual  quality,  for  he  was 
enlisted  in  the  schemes  of  Thomas  Jefferson  and  gave  liberally  to 
further  them.  He  married  a  Miss  Lush  of  Albany,  New  York, 


HIS  MATERNAL  ANCESTORS  17 

and  had  by  her  a  son  Richard,  my  grandfather,  who  being  of  a 
scholarly  turn  was  sent  to  William  and  Mary  College.  When 
summoned  thence  to  take  his  share  in  the  management  of  his 
father's  business,  the  young  man  rebelled  and  announced  his 
intention  of  studying  law.  This  was  displeasing  to  the  mer- 
chant father,  who  set  great  store  by  his  ships  and  his  shops,  of 
which  the  principal  was  in  Richmond,  where  the  old  Spottis- 
wood  Hotel  stood.  The  young  man  and  the  old  were  alike 
obdurate ;  so  they  parted.  The  time  was  about  1790 ;  the  tide 
of  life  was  flooding  to  the  West,  and  it  bore  my  grandfather 
with  it.  He  had  read  law  with  the  help  of  W  [name  illegible] 
and  other  able  jurists,  though  he  was  but  a  youth  when  he  came 
to  Kentucky  and  after  a  time  settled  down  in  Campbell  County, 
which  then  included  what  is  now  a  number  of  counties  in 
northern  Kentucky.  He  was  too  late  for  the  last  chance  of 
acquiring  land  of  the  best  quality  by  the  simple  process 
that  came  to  those  who  entered  the  country  in  the  first 
twenty-five  years  of  the  colonization;  so  he  had  to  set  about 
his  winning  in  the  less  desirable  but  still  excellent  fields  near 
the  Ohio,  rather  than  in  the  marvellously  fertile  region  about 
Lexington. 

Though  a  late-comer,  my  grandfather  was  laborious  and 
thrifty.  He  practised  law  with  great  success,  took  land  for  his 
fees,  bought  discerningly,  and  in  sixty  years  amassed  what  was 
for  the  time  and  place  a  great  fortune.  Though  he  had  given 
largely  to  his  many  children,  and  supported  a  host  of  imprudent 
kindred,  his  estate  was  valued  at  his  death,  in  1868,  at  a  million 
and  a  half  dollars,  there  being  at  that  time  probably  not  half  a 
dozen  such  successes  in  the  Ohio  valley.  All  this  gain  was  made 
not  only  honestly,  but  in  a  generous  way.  He  was  a  good  land- 
lord ;  he  deterred  no  man  who  tried  to  do  his  part,  and  even  of 
ne'er-do-wells  who  swarmed  about  him  all  his  days,  he  was 
wont  to  say  that  "the  good  will  of  a  cur  is  better  than  his  ill 
will."  The  worst  comment  he  ever  was  known  to  make  of  any 
man  was  that  he  was  "a  pestiferous  fellow." 


18     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

When  I  first  remember  my  grandfather,  in  1846,  he  was  about 
sixty-five  years  of  age.  His  appearance  and  quality  even  then 
made  a  strong  impression  on  me ;  thereafter  until  he  died,  for  the 
twelve  most  impressionable  years  I  was  much  with  him,  and  he 
influenced  me  greatly.  I  was  nearer  to  him  than  any  other  of 
his  thirty  or  more  grandchildren,  partly  because  he  was  pecu- 
liarly attached  to  my  mother,  and  partly  because  I  was  the  only 
one  of  the  lot  by  nature  in  sympathy  with  his  strangely  delicate 
quality,  his  abiding  interest  in  literature,  and  his  keen  insight 
into  men.  In  his  aspect  and  manner  Richard  Southgate  was  an 
excellent  sample  of  the  old,  long- vanished  class  of  Virginia  gen- 
tlemen. He  was  a  small  person,  or  at  least  so  appeared  among 
a  folk  who  tended  to  hugeness  of  body.  He  was  the  last  of  the 
folk  in  his  part  of  the  world  to  hold  to  the  "pig-tail/'  queue 
arrangement  of  his  hair,  which  was  always  carefully  braided 
and  tied  with  a  bit  of  ribbon,  so  that  the  end  of  it  hung  between 
his  shoulders.  Toward  the  end  of  his  life  he  disused  the  small- 
clothes and  stockings  which  were  the  fit  accompaniment  of  the 
queue,  but  he  kept  to  the  buckled  shoes  and  the  round  cloak  of 
the  ancient  costume.  His  face,  —  with  the  white  hair  strained 
back  like  a  girl's  to  her  braid,  —  delicate,  regularly  featured, 
and  smooth  shaven,  had  a  womanish  look;  but  the  keen  alert 
eyes  had  all  of  a  man's  strength  in  them.  Up  to  his  death,  in 
his  eighty-third  year,  his  face  kept  an  unusual  share  of  its 
youthful  quality. 

In  his  quality,  Richard  Southgate  curiously  united  the 
efficiency  of  an  adroit  business  man  with  an  abiding  ever- 
present  interest  in  the  other  side  of  human  affairs;  in  history 
and  literature  he  was  well  read  and  abounded  in  judgments. 
He  had  the  reputation  of  being  little  given  to  charity.  My 
father,  who  was  none  too  sympathetic  with  him,  told  me  a 
story  which  well  illustrates  his  curious  ways  of  dealing  with 
those  about  him.  A  tipsy  teamster,  one  of  the  carriers  who  in 
the  time  before  railways  transported  goods  from  the  Ohio  into 
the  back  country,  while  drunk,  drove  his  horses  into  the  river, 


RICHARD  SOUTHGATE 


RICHARD  SOUTHGATE  19 

where  they  with  the  wagon  were  swept  away  and  lost.  An  effort 
was  made  to  raise  a  subscription  to  help  the  fellow  out  of  his 
difficulties.  My  grandfather  not  only  refused  to  give  any  money 
for  this  purpose,  but  dismissed  the  idea  for  the  reason  that  it 
publicly  approved  the  man's  drunken  ways.  The  subscription 
failed,  yet  to  the  surprise  of  the  neighborhood  the  man  was 
supplied  with  four  horses  and  a  wagon.  It  was  found  out  that 
Richard  Southgate  had  contrived  in  a  round-about  way,  at  his 
own  cost,  to  make  good  the  loss.  By  this  adroit  device  he  stuck 
to  his  principles  of  not  rewarding  negligence  and  his  axiom  of 
"not  letting  your  right  hand  know  what  your  left  does."  I 
should  like  to  tell  far  more  of  this  interesting  man,  but  some- 
thing of  his  unusual  ways  will  be  set  forth  in  the  slender  per- 
sonal narrative  of  my  youth. 

I  have  been  unable  to  find  anything  concerning  the  collateral 
ancestors  on  my  grandfather's  side.  What  he  had  of  distinction 
appears  to  have  come  through  his  father  from  the  old  country ; 
though  through  his  wife,  my  maternal  grandmother,  there  came 
an  interesting  group  of  inheritances.  This  woman  was  evidently 
a  person  of  more  than  usual  fineness  of  character.  She  died  of 
cholera  ten  years  before  I  was  born,  but  her  name  lived  after, 
so  that  as  a  lad,  going  about  in  a  wide  range  of  northern  and 
central  Kentucky,  I  found  a  welcome  as  her  grandchild,  and  a 
warm  place  in  the  hearts  of  all  sorts  of  people  whom  she  had 
cheered  and  befriended  in  the  days  when  as  the  throng  from 
Virginia  to  the  frontier  were  coming  in  there  was  need  of  mutual 
help.  She  must  have  been  a  woman  of  uncommon  vigor,  for  she 
was  the  efficient  mistress  of  a  great  household,  one  that  held 
many  slaves,  and  a  host  of  poor  kin,  who  swarmed  upon  any 
successful  pioneers  who  had  made  a  place  in  the  new  land.  She 
seems  to  have  thought  nothing  of  horseback  journeys  of  fifty 
or  a  hundred  miles  to  help  those  who  needed  her  cheer. 

The  qualities  which  made  my  grandmother  a  large  figure  in 
her  time  and  place,  came  from  her  father,  Dr.  John  Hinde,  a 
London  man,  long  a  surgeon  in  the  British  navy,  who  in  middle 


20      NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

age,  with  some  little  fortune  to  waste,  settled  in  Virginia.  In 
the  course  of  his  service  he  was  with  Wolfe  at  the  capture  of 
Quebec,  and  in  the  well-known  picture  of  the  hero's  death,  John 
Hinde  is  figured  as  the  surgeon  who  seeks  to  aid  him.  I  recall 
the  account  of  an  unsuccessful  effort  to  recover  a  family  por- 
trait loaned  to  Benjamin  West  for  use  in  his  picture.  John 
Hinde  first  appears  in  the  family  traditions  as  a  merry  if  not  a 
dissipated  person,  who  gave  more  attention  to  riding  after 
foxes  and  other  follies  than  to  his  business  as  planter  and  coun- 
try doctor,  or  to  his  growing  family.  His  wife,  who  was  born  a 
Hubbard,  seems  also  to  have  been  rather  a  worldly  person.  But 
in  the  great  wave  of  the  religious  revival  which  led  to  Method- 
ism, the  wife  "  experienced  religion."  Her  husband,  it  is  related, 
and  I  have  seen  an  account  of  the  incident  in  print,  judged  the 
symptoms  as  indicating  trouble  in  her  brain,  and  applied  a  fly 
blister  to  the  back  of  her  neck.  When  he  came  to  dress  the 
blister  he  had  a  like  experience,  which  from  all  accounts  must 
have  been  a  striking  visitation ;  for  the  man  was  at  once  changed 
in  all  his  habits  of  thought  and  action.  He  became  a  deeply 
religious  person,  giving  up  his  life  to  charitable  work,  going  up 
and  down  the  land  as  a  physician  and  surgeon  who  took  no  pay. 
It  is  said  that  he  was  wont  to  pray  at  every  bedside  for  the 
Lord's  blessing  on  the  help  he  sought  to  give.  The  accounts  I 
have  had  of  the  few  persons  who  remembered  John  Hinde  make 
it  clear  that  he  was  a  singularly  attractive  person.  His  access 
of  piety  having  left  him  if  anything  merrier  than  before  it  came, 
he  went  to  the  end  of  his  life,  at  near  one  hundred  years,  in  a 
frolicsome  relation  with  his  Maker.  When  he  came  to  die,  his 
last  act  was  to  feel  the  pulse  of  his  wife,  who  was  then  a  woman 
of  ninety,  and  to  tell  her  that  they  would  have  to  be  apart  for 
some  years. 

Of  the  children  of  John  Hinde  I  saw  but  one,  a  daughter  —  a 
widow  whom  I  remember  as  Aunt  C ,  a  most  gracious  pre- 
sence. She  was  entirely  blind,  but  her  fine  eyes  were  not  clouded 
nor  had  her  face  taken  on  the  impassive  look  so  common  when 


HIS  MOTHER  21 

the  sight  has  long  been  lost.  She  was  always  happy,  a  cheer  to 
the  fireside  she  adorned.  I  recall  her  love  of  children  and  the 
devotion  to  her  of  the  negro  servants,  her  attendants,  whose 
services  gave  a  certain  stateliness  to  her  life.  I  well  remember 
her  habit  of  smoking  a  single  pipeful  of  tobacco  in  the  evening, 
the  bowl  made  of  corn-cob  and  the  stem  of  reed.  It  is  the  only 
instance  in  which  I  ever  saw  a  woman  of  station  use  tobacco, 
except  as  snuff.  Even  in  these  modern  days  I  have  not  en- 
countered such,  though  I  am  told  that  it  is  common  enough  in 
some  societies.  My  great-aunt  explained  to  me  that  it  was  the 
custom  of  old  ladies  in  her  youth. 

My  grandfather  had  four  sons  and  three  daughters  who  came 
to  mature  age.  Of  these  but  one  showed  evidence  of  effective 
capacity,  William  Southgate,  a  lawyer,  who  made  a  consider- 
able reputation  as  a  popular  speaker  and  a  wit :  he  was  for  some 
time  a  member  of  Congress.  He  was  singularly  loved  by  the 
people,  and  with  his  good  share  of  capacity  should  have  made 
for  himself  a  large  place  in  political  life,  but  he  came  to  a  pre- 
mature end.  Another  brother,  Henry,  also  famed  as  a  wit, — a 
very  Yorick  in  his  humor,  —  commanded  the  love  of  men  and 
women,  but  went  the  same  rapid  way.  These  brothers,  with 
their  rare  charm,  their  trains  of  admiring  followers,  and  their 
swift  exit,  made  a  great  impression  on  my  childish  mind.  From 
the  social  point  of  view  they  were  essentially  unlike  anything 
our  race  breeds  in  this  day.  Their  manners  and  mode  of  thought 
were  those  of  the  Stuart  times,  when  men  felt  the  life  of  their 
neighbors,  and  dwelt  in  their  hearts. 

I  begin  my  memory  of  my  mother  when  I  was  about  five  years 
old.  Strangely  enough,  there  are  at  least  three  of  the  slaves  of  the 
household  whose  faces  were  enduringly  printed  on  my  mind 
before  my  mother's  found  its  place  there.  As  with  this,  the  first 
deliberate  review  I  have  ever  made  of  my  threescore  years  of 
memory,  I  recall  my  mother's  qualities,  it  becomes  clear  to  me 
that  through  her  came  the  most  of  good  and  the  least  of  evil  of 
my  life.  For  through  her,  probably  more  remotely  through  her 


22     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

mother  and  her  grandfather,  John  Hinde,  came  that  simple 
interest  in  my  fellow  human  beings  and  a  sense  of  duty  to  them, 
which  she  so  eminently  possessed.  In  person,  as  I  recall  her  at 
the  age  of  thirty,  she  was,  with  only  moderate  beauty,  very  at- 
tractive from  her  noble  motherliness.  She  inherited  from  the 
Hinde  stock  the  very  English  quality  which  came  to  perhaps  half 
the  descendants  of  the  merry  doctor;  the  characteristics  which 
are  summed  up  in  the  typical  squire  —  that  solid  simplicity 
which  is  the  foundation  of  all  the  best  in  the  stock.  Though 
blessed  with  a  good  mind,  my  mother  was  singularly  without 
intellectual  interests.  She  inherited  nothing  of  her  father's 
quick,  wide-ranging  intelligence ;  all  her  care,  and  it  was  great, 
went  to  her  household,  her  numerous  kindred,  and  her  limited 
circle  of  friends.  Her  excellent,  unbreakable  judgment  and  keen 
discernment  never  penetrated  beyond  this  seemingly  narrow 
field  which  she  made  by  her  activities  a  great  realm.  Now  and 
then  a  flash  of  intelligence  showed  that  she  had  large  possibili- 
ties of  thought  which  in  other  social  conditions  would  have 
awakened,  but  which  were  effectively  repressed  by  the  narrow- 
ing quality  of  the  life  of  the  time  and  place. 

This  task  of  sketching  my  ancestry  is  in  some  ways  the  most 
difficult  that  I  have  ever  undertaken.  To  set  forth  what  is 
germane  without  touching  on  what  is  essentially  private,  or 
perhaps  is  not  illustrative,  is  hard  to  effect  in  a  way  to  give  the 
result  any  value.  The  writer  essentially  finds  that  the  nearer  he 
comes  to  his  own  time  the  greater  his  limitations ;  for  whatever 
be  his  regard  for  history,  he  must  have  a  thought  for  those  now 
living,  who  may  be  offended  by  over-much  detail  concerning 
those  who  share  with  him  in  the  lives  he  is  depicting.  I  am  glad 
to  say  that  there  is  nothing  in  all  I  know  of  the  direct  and  col- 
lateral kinship  of  my  line,  which  I  can  fairly  well  trace  for  an 
average  of  six  generations,  that  needs  be  hidden.  In  all  the  host 
there  is  not  one,  so  far  as  I  have  learned,  who  has  ever  been 
connected  or  even  charged  with  other  vice  than  fighting  in  a 
fair  kind  of  a  way.  There  has  been  no  instance  of  insanity  or 


INHERITANCES  23 

idiocy  in  the  direct  or  collateral  kindred.  There  has  been  some 
drunkenness  in  the  collaterals,  but,  so  far  as  I  have  been  able  to 
learn,  none  in  the  direct  ascendants.  So,  too,  they  have  been 
spared  the  more  terrible  maladies.  In  my  large  kinship  there  is 
no  trace  of  cancer  or  tuberculosis.  My  father,  who  was  curious 
in  such  matters,  and  had  so  far  as  possible  informed  himself 
concerning  the  diseases  of  my  stock,  told  me  that  he  believed 
that  those  ills  had  never  visited  any  of  my  kindred,  except  in 
the  case  of  one  cousin,  who  inherited  consumption  from  her 
mother,  who  was  not  of  my  blood.  I  have  never  known  of  any 
kindred  who  were  deformed :  they  have  often  enough  been  good- 
for-nothing,  but  their  shapes  testify  to  wholesome  physical  in- 
heritances. 

So  far  as  I  can  judge  what  I  have  from  my  ancestors  comes 
mainly  from  my  mother's  side  of  my  house.  I  am  evidently""} 
nearer  akin  in  spirit  to  Richard  Southgate  than  to  any  other  of  ! 
my  forbears.  His  eager  interest  in  men  and  things,  his  skill  in  I 
memorizing,  his  love  of  the  land  and  desiring  of  it,  his  taste  for 
literature,  especially  for  poetry,  were  clearly  sent  on  to  me. 
From  my  father's  side  I  inherit  a  combativeness  which  curiously 
contends  with  the  eminently  peaceful  humor  which  came  through 
the  Southgates,  who  were  disinclined  to  any  kind  of  warfare. 
Even  before  his  people  came  to  this  country  to  settle,  they 
appear  in  tradition  as  buccaneers  on  the  Spanish  Main;  but 
among  the  Southgates  of  the  direct  line,  or  in  my  collateral 
ancestors  of  that  side,  I  have  not  been  able  to  learn  of  a  soldier. 
As  a  whole,  none  of  my  ancestry  ever  came  near  to  greatness, 
yet  they  sent  on  to  me  a  good  inheritance  of  sufficiency,  both  of 
body  and  of  mind.  The  best  of  these  gifts  has  been  a  capacity 
for  an  intense  interest  in  tasks  without  much  reference  to  per- 
sonal comfort  in  doing  them,  along  with  a  power  for  keeping  at 
work,  whatever  might  be  the  discouragement  from  illness  or 
ill-success,  and  also  a  certain  unconscious  talent  for  seeing  the 
situations  in  which  I  have  been  involved  as  parts  of  the  whole 
of  actions  —  a  talent  that  may  be  termed  the  historic  sense  in 


24     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

immediate  application;  so  that  my  doings,  though  of  no  great 
account  in  themselves,  have  been  curiously,  related  to  large 
affairs.  For  this  quality  I  am  most  indebted  to  my  father's 
family ;  it  was  not  manifested  in  him,  but  somewhat  in  his  father, 
and  especially  in  his  uncle  William,  there  was  the  capacity  for 
thought  in  action  combined  with  that  full  share  of  will  which 
carries  purposes  to  their  end. 

In  the  foregoing  pages  I  have  briefly  sketched  the  story  of  my 
ancestral  life  so  far  as  it  is  known  to  me.  I  am  aware  of  the  fact 
that  the  history  of  even  six  generations  does  not  provide  an  ade- 
quate background  for  a  judgment  as  to  the  inheritances  of  an  in- 
dividual ;  for  the  reason  that  while  we  do  not  yet  know  for  how 
long  characteristics  may  remain  latent,  it  is  evident  from  the 
history  of  human  stocks  that  they  may  inhere  though  they  be 
not  manifested  for  many  generations.  There  is,  however,  a  fair 
presumption  that  when  half  a  dozen  stages  of  a  life  are  fairly 
well  known,  they  afford  a  tolerable  basis  for  reckoning  as  to 
what  comes  to  the  last  stage  in  the  way  of  birthright.  What 
else  there  may  be,  can  in  some  indefinite  measure  —  if  indeed 
the  term  measure  can  be  applied  to  it  —  be  charged  to  the  ac- 
count of  personal  quality  and  incentive.  It  is  evidently  impos- 
sible  to  determine  the  share  of  the  individual  in  his  actions. 
Some  naturalists  hold  that  he  has  none  at  all;  but  this  is  a 
preposterous  view,  because  it  not  only  denies  human  experience 
in  the  face  of  action,  but  it  gives  no  room  for  the  advance  in.the 
series  such  as  has,  so  far  as  we  can  discern,  come  about  through 
ffielpersonal  incentive  which  appears  to  be  characteristic  of  all 
organic  forms.  In  my  own  case,  the  best  analysis  that  I  have 
been  able  to  make  indicates  that  all  my  intellectual  capacities 
and  emotional  trends  have  reached  me  from  my  ancestors  in  the 
same  way  and  about  as  dominatingly  as  my  bodily  parts.  The 
use  I  have  made  of  these  transmittenda,  the  extent  to  which 
they  have  been  developed,  and  especially  their  continuation  in 
the  whole  of  a  life,  are  the  results  of  that  fundamental  mystery, 
the  individual  will,  controlled  by  and  controlling  the  condi- 


THE  INDIVIDUAL  WILL  25 

tions  which  have  helped  to  shape  it.  I  am  disposed  to  give  to 
this  personal  power  a  value  quite  as  great  as  to  that  shadowy 
domination  that  comes  to  me  from  the  past :  believing,  indeed, 
that  what  I  am  in  relation  to  myself  and  my  fellows  is  far  more 
my  own  than  it  is  my  ancestors'.  What  they  sent  me  limited 
the  bounds  of  my  little  part  of  the  great  field;  what  I  have  done 
in  that  field  is  my  own. 


CHAPTER  II 

RECOLLECTIONS   OF   CHILDHOOD 

/  V 

I  TURN  now  to  the  story  of  my  own  life,  my  own  motives,  and 
the  environment  of  nature  and  men  that  shaped  them.  I  foresee 
\  that  the  account  will  have  to  be  somewhat  jumbled  and  con- 
fused, for  the  reason  that  every  life  is  a  compound  of  what  is 
within  and  what  is  without  the  personal  quality  and  of  the  sur- 
roundings which  shaped  impulses  and  gave  them  chance  of 
action. 

Although  my  ancestors  were  wholesome  in  body  and  mind,  I 
was  at  birth  and  through  my  youth  rather  weakly.  The  trouble 
seems  to  have  been  with  the  nervous  system  leading  to  imper- 
fect digestion,  so  that  in  childhood  I  was  what  is  called  deli- 
cate. The  pictures  of  me  and  the  descriptions  from  my  elders 
show  up  to  twelve  years  of  age  a  slender,  retarded  shape,  with  a 
pale  face  and  rather  frightened  look.  After  that  came  a  rapid 
growth,  which  led  to  a  fair  measure  of  bodily  strength  and  re- 
active forces.  The  main  point  is  that  in  the  years  that  mould 
the  man  I  was,  because  of  innate  weakness,  left  almost  without 
schooling  and  with  no  other  education  than  what  came  from  con- 
tact with  my  surroundings.  Up  to  that  age  I  could  barely  read 
and  write.  In  a  dame  school,  kept  by  an  ancient  spinster,  to 
which  I  was  sent  from  time  to  time  when  I  was  well  enough,  I 
learned  nothing  and  was  regarded  as  a  dunce.  The  fact  seems 
to  have  been  that  in  the  bad  air  of  the  crowded  little  room  my 
life  wilted  at  once.  Various  tokens,  especially  the  rough  talk 
of  the  slaves  of  the  household,  led  me  to  understand  that  I  was 
not  expected  to  live  beyond  childhood.  I  recall  that  this  im- 
pression was  not  at  all  painful  to  me,  for  my  weakness  and  the 
consequent  isolation  from  other  children  made  me  a  rather 
intense  pessimist  for  one  of  my  small  size. 


FIRST  MEMORIES  27 

My  first  memories  are  of  a  negro  woman  who  was  my  nurse; 
the  image  of  her  is  clear,  though  I  could  not  have  been  more 
than  three  years  old  when  it  was  formed,  for  I  remember  being 
much  carried  about  in  her  strong  arms.  She  was  a  large,  well- 
shaped  negress;  something  of  her  good  face  and  dear  soul  is 
now  before  me.  There  are  three  other  black  faces  which  were 
printed  on  my  memory  before  I  find  that  of  my  mother.  It  is 
probably  on  this  account  that  the  African  face  has  always  been 
dear  to  me.  It  still  seems,  as  it  surely  is,  the  more  normal  human 
face,  that  of  our  own  kind  appearing  in  a  way  exceptional.  My 
father's  face,  though  it  was  very  striking,  does  not  appear  in 
my  recollections  until  later,  —  until  the  time  when  I  was  five 
years  old, —  and  none  others  seen  before  I  was  seven  or  eight 
abide  with  me. 

Because  I  came  just  after  the  first-born  died,  and  because  I 
was  frail,  I  was  very  tenderly  cared  for.  Until  I  was  five  or  six 
years  old  I  had  no  playmates  whom  I  remember.  It  is  evident 
that  I  was  for  a  time  somewhat  coddled,  but  there  was  probably 
need  of  unusual  care  to  bring  me  through  a  troubled  childhood. 
What  scraps  of  memory  I  have  of  that  time  curiously  do  not  re- 
late to  the  house  in  which  we  dwelt,  but  to  the  open  country 
whereto  I  went  often  on  horseback  with  my  father,  to  the  Ohio 
River,  a  dear  mystery,  fearful  yet  enchanting,  and  to  the  gov- 
ernment post  a  few  hundred  feet  from  my  father's  door,  where 
with  my  nurse  I  spent  the  most  of  my  days.  The  first  recollec- 
tion I  have  except  of  the  few  persons  mentioned,  is  of  the  parade 
ground  and  the  soldiers,  above  all  of  the  music  and  the  bugle 
calls.  Those  notes  are  so  embedded  in  me  that  they  seem  a  part 
of  my  substance  and  strangely  move  me  to  this  far-off  day.  The 
earliest  trace  of  any  kind  of  activity  that  I  recall  is  an  advent- 
ure with  the  musician  who  beat  the  great  drum  of  the  barracks 
band.  It  was  my  delight  to  see  the  band  march  around  the 
parade  ground,  and  my  cherished  ambition  to  have  a  whack  at 
the  drum.  So,  craftily,  stick  in  hand,  I  hid  behind  a  boxed  tree 
and  managed  to  get  in  a  stroke,  only  to  be  bowled  over  by  the 


28     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

irate  drummer.  I  could  not  have  been  more  than  four  years  old 
at  the  time,  yet  the  delight  of  that  deed  stays  by  me. 

When  I  was  about  five,  the  musterings  for  the  Mexican  War 
were  going  on,  and  the  barracks  were  over-filled,  so  that  con- 
siderable hordes  of  troops  were  encamped  in  the  open  fields 
which  adjoined  it.  On  those  fields,  then  pastures,  one  of  the 
horse  batteries,  I  believe  Ringgold's,  was  for  some  time  drilled. 
I  was  then  exempt  from  the  care  of  a  nurse  and  could  run  about 
afoot  or  on  a  pony.  The  movements  of  this  command  filled  my 
little  soul  with  wonder;  there  I  gained  my  first  sense  of  the 
power  of  men  in  action,  that  primitive  might  of  war  which 
impresses  the  primitive  child  and  childish  man  as  nothing  else 
does.  I  well  remember  my  longing  for  the  unapproachable 
splendor  of  the  commander  of  that  battery,  who  seemed  to  me 
a  supernatural  being.  Oddly  enough,  fifteen  years  thereafter  I 
was  in  his  place  drilling  a  horse  battery  on  the  same  field,  to 
find  it  tedious  drudgery,  with  moments  of  high  life  when  by 
chance  the  work  went  well. 

The  newspaper  reports  of  the  battles  in  Mexico  read  aloud  by 
my  mother  to  the  household  made  a  great  and  enlarging  im- 
pression on  me.  Though  I  could  not  read,  I  had  the  ability  to 
understand  a  map,  and  I  made  a  poor  stagger  at  a  description 
of  the  country  over  which  the  troops  passed  on  their  way  to 
Mexico  and  of  their  movements  in  that  country.  As  I  had  seen 
many  of  the  officers  and  sundry  of  the  commands  on  their  way 
to  the  front,  I  had  food  for  imagination,  and  of  it  I  built  a  host 
of  pictures  of  imaginary  events.  For  two  or  three  years  about 
all  the  thoughts  of  my  waking  hours  and  all  my  dreams  were 
of  war  or  fighting  of  some  kind.  The  interest  was  aroused  at  an 
even  earlier  time,  for  I  remember  my  eagerness  on  court  days  to 
see  from  near  by  the  brutal  contests  between  the  tipsy  country- 
men in  the  Court-House  yard.  So  too,  I  recall,  when  about  five 
years  old,  being  in  the  midst  of  a  riot  on  a  race-track  half  a  mile 
from  my  home  —  people  in  the  judge's  stand  shooting  down  at 
a  mob  which  was  assailing  them.  While  in  the  delight  of  the 


NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER  AS  A  CHILD 


PLAYING  WAP,  29 

situation,  for  my  dream  of  war  was  realized,  I  was  caught  up  on 
the  shoulders  of  a  sturdy  slave  and  carried  home.  This  treat- 
ment remains  the  humiliation  of  my  life. 

As  I  had  no  playmates  who  satisfied  my  fancy  of  what  a  play- 
mate should  be,  my  time  was  passed  in  playing  alone.  As  war 
was  in  my  heart  it  expressed  itself  in  endlessly  building  fortifi- 
cations of  clay  and  arming  them  with  guns  laboriously  made 
of  keys,  the  wheels  cut  from  spools,  and  the  rest  of  the  carriages 
whittled  as  best  I  could  do.  The  old-fashioned  large  hollow  key, 
with  the  hole  a  third  of  an  inch  in  diameter,  properly  managed 
with  a  file,  can  be  concocted  into  a  miniature  cannon  which  will 
"go  off."  My  ambition  not  satisfied  with  these  small  affairs,  I 
filched  a  pair  of  horse  pistols  from  my  father's  office,  razeed  them 
with  the  file,  and  with  no  end  of  well-concealed  labor  done  in 
my  hiding-place  in  a  barn,  converted  them  into  rather  pretty 
diminutive  field-pieces  which  were  able  to  do  real  damage.  My 
father,  who  had  a  fancy  for  developing  new  varieties  of  melons, 
had  a  new  patch  with  sundry  fine  specimens  nearly  ripe.  On 
these  I  turned  my  guns  with  such  effect  that  they  were  all  shat- 
tered. 

Although  I  had  no  constant  playmates  in  these  years  of  imag- 
inary war,  I  did  not  feel  the  need  of  them  because  my  imaginary 
companions  were  numerous,  and  much  more  to  my  taste  than 
the  lads  with  whom  I  might  have  associated.  They  were  all 
much  older  than  myself,  all  for  a  time  soldiers,  great  heroes 
who  admitted  me  most  graciously  to  share  their  mighty  deeds, 
with  the  implicit  understanding  that  I  should  not  tell  any  one 
about  it  all.  To  have  an  ordinary,  commonplace  boy,  even  if  he 
were  years  older  than  myself,  imposed  on  this  heroic  society 
was  revolting.  So  I  played  in  company  with  an  unseen  host,  as 
many  children  do,  and  got  thereby  much  enjoyment. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  because  I  lived  in  imaginary 
war  I  was  naturally  a  brave  lad ;  far  from  it.  Up  to  my  twelfth 
year  I  was  absurdly  timid.  Alongside  of  this  dream  of  war  there 
dwelt  a  world  of  fear  of  the  dark,  of  all  beyond  the  field  of  view, 


30     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

of  men  and  beasts,  even  of  lads  no  bigger  than  myself.  I  doubt 
if  a  child  ever  suffered  from  immediate  senseless  fear  as  I  did, 
while  my  whole  soul  was  given  to  warlike  projects.  What  I  have 
seen  in  later  life  leads  me  to  believe  that  this  is  a  common  human 
condition,  and  that  the  grown  men  who  glory  in  the  images  of 
war  are  led  thereto  by  their  sense  of  their  own  timidity.  This 
seems  the  likelier  from  an  incident  which  ended  my  youthful 
dreams  of  battle.  It  has  a  certain  psychologic  interest  and  it  is 
the  first  distinct  turning-point  in  my  mental  state.  So,  though 
in  itself  a  trifle,  it  needs  be  told. 

Until  I  was  about  twelve  years  old,  I  was  so  far  possessed  by 
fear  that  I  was  much  put  upon  by  the  lads  of  my  own  age.  This 
cowardice  seems  to  have  related  only  to  contacts  with  people, 
for  as  a  tree-climber  I  was  daring  and  successful.  I  remember 
the  pleasure  it  gave  me  to  scale  a  lofty  beech  and  allow  myself 
to  fall  through  the  boughs,  trusting  to  make  good  my  hold 
before  I  came  to  the  ground.  This  I  was  accustomed  to  do 
alone,  so  that  there  was  no  vaunting  in  the  performance.  The 
sense  of  this  childish  pleasure  was  so  fixed  in  memory  that  to 
this  day  I  never  see  a  tree  well  shaped  for  the  hazard  without 
desiring  to  try  it  once  again.  Whatever  was  the  basis  of  the 
state  of  mind,  it  possessed  me  sorely  until  a  crisis  came.  A 
negro  servant,  a  mulatto  belonging  to  a  kinsman  who  dwelt  near 
my  home,  amused  himself  by  bullying  me  in  a  brutal  manner  so 
that  my  life  became  unsupportable.  So  with  a  newly  awakened 
spirit  I  determined  to  end  with  him,  fully  expecting  to  be  killed ; 
be  it  said  that  my  fear  was  not  of  death,  a  fear  from  which  I 
have  never  suffered.  I  lay  in  wait  for  the  fellow  on  the  street  on 
a  moonlight  night.  When  the  bully,  who  was  a  sturdy  fellow  of 
twice  my  size  and  about  twenty  years  old,  tried  to  seize  me,  I 
managed  with  a  quick  unexpected  rush  to  bring  him  down  and 
to  beat  him  on  the  head  with  a  stone,  so  that  he  had  to  be  car- 
ried off  and  was  for  some  time  in  a  bad  state.  It  was  thought 
that  he  would  die,  but  he  fortunately  recovered.  In  this  com- 
bat for  the  first  and  only  time  in  my  life  I  felt  that  strange 


PASSAGE  FROM  CHILDHOOD  TO  YOUTH       31 

bloodthirstiness,  that  demoniac  fury,  which  is  in  all  men.  I 
had  afterward  in  my  boyhood  and  later  a  number  of  fights,  but 
in  no  other  instance  has  the  slaying  motive  been  aroused ;  so  far 
as  I  can  discern,  the  situations  have  provoked  a  rather  intense 
sense  of  merriment,  and  the  desire  to  do  the  antagonist  no 
unnecessary  harm.  Another  effect  of  this  crisis  was  to  make  an 
end  of  all  my  fear  of  men  and  beasts.  When  in  danger  of  assault 
there  has  always  been  a  keen  reckoning  on  the  situation  with  a 
singular  assurance  that  my  wits  would  see  me  through. 

My  preposterous  contest  with  "  Bill  Button"  appears  to  have 
made  an  end  of  my  fancy  for  war.  As  above  noted,  I  am  inclined 
to  believe  that  this  devotion  of  some  years'  duration  was  a 
natural  device  to  support  my  spirit  in  its  fear,  an  ideal  of 
brave  doing  set  over  against  the  mastering  sense  of  cowardice. 
In  place  of  the  old  fear  of  external  enemies  there  came  to  me 
a  new  terror  lest  the  newly  discovered  fury  should  break  out 
again.  This  secondary  fear  made  no  permanent  impression, 
though  its  moral  value  to  a  growing  lad  was  considerable.  I  am 
inclined  to  think  that  this  trifling  incident  marks  my  passage 
from  childhood  to  the  youth  in  which  the  mind  begins  to  feel 
the  wider  realm.  So  far  as  I  can  see,  I  thereafter  began  to  look 
upon  the  world  with  a  man's  eyes,  though  it  was  with  scanty 
intelligence.  This  seems  therefore  a  fit  place  to  set  forth  the 
conditions  of  the  place  and  people  where  I  was  to  take  some- 
thing like  adult  shape. 

The  village  of  Newport,  Kentucky,  at  the  time  when  I  was 
born  was  a  place  of  perhaps  a  thousand  inhabitants.  To  a 
casual  observer  it  would  have  seemed  as  a  mere  outskirt  of  the 
large  and  prosperous  town  of  Cincinnati  on  the  northern  side 
of  the  Ohio  River,  with  which  it  was  connected  by  a  ferry.  Its 
only  title  to  distinction  was  that  it  was  the  seat  of  a  government 
military  post,  which  occupied  a  few  acres  at  the  angle  where  the 
Licking  River  enters  the  larger  stream.  Although  the  measur- 
able distance  between  the  two  places  is  not  more  than  a  third 
of  a  mile,  they  were  in  the  old  days  much  more  widely  separated 


32      NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

in  all  the  essentials  of  society  than  New  York  and  New  Orleans 
now  are.  There  are  sundry  places  in  the  world  where  bounds  of 
no  more  geographic  value  separate  people  somewhat  diverse 
in  speech  and  tradition,  but  none  known  to  me  where  neighbor- 
ing folk  are  so  absolutely  parted  as  were  these  people  during  the 
first  six  decades  of  the  last  century.  They  had  nothing  in  com- 
mon but  their  joint  share  in  the  English  blood  and  speech  and 
a  certain  theoretical  likeness  of  religion.  Institutionally,  they 
were  widely  parted.  The  one  represented  the  motives  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  the  other  of  the  sixteenth.  For  there  is 
essentially  all  that  difference  between  the  motives  of  free  com- 
munities, where  in  the  one  all  are  of  equal  rights  before  the  law, 
and  in  the  other  slavery  holds. 

The  separation  of  the  two  communities  on  either  side  of  the 
Ohio  was  intensified  by  certain  accidents  of  the  settlement  of 
this  part  of  the  country  in  the  eighteenth  century.  The  northern 
section  had  been  mainly  sold  by  the  United  States  to  settlers 
coming  from  a  wide  range  of  country,  mostly  from  the  north- 
eastern states.  Although  in  some  part  owned  by  the  govern- 
ment of  Virginia  and  sold  to  settlers  in  its  patent  system,  most 
of  the  territory  had  been  laid  out,  in  the  usual  manner,  into 
townships,  so  that  there  were  no  large  connected  holdings; 
while  in  Kentucky  the  Virginia  system  of  land  grants  or  patents, 
without  the  preliminary  sectionizing  process,  was  adopted  ex- 
cept for  the  small  district  to  the  west  of  the  Tennessee  River 
known  as  the  Jackson  Purchase,  which  was  secured  after  the 
colony  acquired  its  character  and  never  had  any  influence  on  its 
social  system.  The  result  of  this  difference  in  the  way  in  which 
the  territory  passed  into  private  ownership  was,  that  while  in 
the  district  north  of  the  Ohio  River  there  were  few  holdings 
exceeding  a  square  mile  or  six  hundred  and  forty  acres,  and  the 
normal  size  of  farms  was  much  less,  being  more  commonly  a 
half  or  a  quarter  of  that  amount,  in  Kentucky  the  larger  part 
of  the  field  had  been  distributed  in  tracts  averaging  several 
thousand  acres.  Under  this  patent  system  there  grew  up  a  form 


THE  FEUDAL  SYSTEM  IN  KENTUCKY          33 

of  proprietorship  where  the  land  was  held  by  relatively  few  men, 
who  let  it  to  tenants.  Even  when  the  poorer  class  of  original 
settlers  acquired  land,  it  was  likely  to  pass  to  the  richer  holders 
by  purchase  or  through  law-suits  based  upon  the  claims  of  older 
patents.  Boone  became  landless  and  emigrated  to  Missouri, 
complaining  that  at  the  end  of  his  adventures  he  had  no  place 
in  which  to  be  buried.  Kentucky  inherited  from  Virginia  the 
mediaeval  theory  of  a  landed  aristocracy  resting  upon  a  tenantry. 
North  of  the  river,  though  there  were  here  and  there  landowners, 
the  conception  of  the  relation  of  the  people  to  the  land  was  that 
of  the  free  man  working  acres  which  he  owned. 

Another  influence  which  tended  to  establish  the  Virginia 
method  of  proprietorship  in  Kentucky,  and  thus  to  fasten  the 
feudal  system,  was  the  peculiar  division  in  the  quality  of  the 
settlers.  These  colonists  were  from  the  three  very  distinct 
classes  into  which  the  people  of  Virginia  had  from  the  beginning 
of  its  history  been  divided,  viz. :  the  upper  class  of  proprietors, 
their  slaves,  and  the  group  of  poor  whites  who  were  well  accus- 
tomed to  the  station  of  tenants.  They  accepted  the  lot  of  the 
landless  and  were  content  to  get  what  they  could  out  of  their 
station  without  striving  for  a  higher.  So  it  came  about  that  in 
the  first  half  of  the  nineteenth  century  relatively  few  of  the  land- 
owners labored  with  their  hands;  they  either  let  their  holdings 
to  their  tenants,  or,  where  they  were  themselves  engaged  in  the 
business  of  farming,  the  labor  was  done  by  the  slaves.  If  the 
holding  was  large,  these  slaves  were  generally  controlled  by  an 
overseer;  if  so  small  that  only  a  few  negroes  were  employed, the 
owner  would  do  the  overseeing  himself.  Thus,  while  manual 
labor  was  not  considered  as  in  itself  degrading, — for,  so  far  as  I 
have  seen,  any  landowner  of  that  time  would,  without  thought 
of  his  station,  take  hold  with  his  slaves  in  any  farming  work, — 
there  grew  up,  or  rather  was  perpetuated,  the  tradition  of  the 
three  distinct  estates,  the  proprietor,  the  tenant,  and  the  slave. 

In  the  county  of  Campbell,  where  I  was  born,  by  far  the 
greater  part  of  the  land  came  by  patents  or  by  purchases  from 


34     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

smaller  holders  into  the  possession  of  two  families  of  common 
blood  who  migrated  together  from  Virginia  in  the  colonization 
period.  These  families,  bearing  the  names  of  Southgate  and 
Taylor,  were  from  the  first  considerable  slaveholders ;  they  both 
aspired  to  form  landed  families.  Unto  them,  as  soon  as  they 
were  established,  there  came,  as  usual,  numbers  of  their  poor 
kindred,  those  swarms  of  the  unsuccessful— the  landless  of  the 
Virginia  families,  who  were  ever  fighting  to  save  themselves 
from  falling  to  the  level  of  the  "poor  white  trash/'  whom  the 
slaves  of  the  rich  accounted  as  beneath  their  own  station.  These 
tenant  whites  came  not  to  any  extent  in  the  first  movement  into 
Kentucky;  that  was  made  up  of  men  of  a  higher  social  grade, 
and  of  the  frontier  class,  generally  shiftless  people  who  Jiad  the 
habits  of  the  frontier,  living  by  hunting  and  trapping.  They 
drifted  out  in  search  of  new  land  to  rent,  or  were  imported  by 
the  large  proprietors,  so  that  their  farms  might  be  rented.  In 
my  boyhood,  I  knew  this  group  of  small  farmers  well.  There 
were  perhaps  a  hundred  families  of  the  class  on  the  lands  of 
my  kindred.  They  were  then  mostly  of  the  second  generation, 
though  many  of  the  elder  were  born  in  Virginia  or  North  Caro- 
lina— an  excellent  folk,  curiously  resembling  the  English  cotter 
of  the  better  class,  as  I  came  to  know  him  in  my  walks  in  cen- 
tral England  in  the  years  1867  to  1873.  Vigorous,  honest, 
kindly,  with  good  farming  instincts,  sexually  wholesome,  with 
no  other  vice  than  drunkenness,  which  was  rarely  continuous, 
but  took  the  form  of  sprees  on  the  quarterly  pay-days  or  other 
festive  occasions.  They  were,  it  is  true,  addicted  to  fighting, 
and  were  nursers  of  feuds,  but  they  never  murdered  for  money. 
Their  feuds  then,  as  now  in  the  less  advanced  eastern  section 
of  the  state,  seem  to  have  been  due  to  the  large  share  of  the 
class  motive  among  them.  In  this  regard  they  did  not  differ 
from  the  higher-placed  group  of  great  landowners. 

The  most  conspicuous  feature  of  the  cotter  class,  as  I  knew  it, 
was  its  shiftlessness;  it  was  not  mere  indolence,  though  the  peo- 
ple were  characteristically  lazy;  but  rather  an  entire  lack  of  all 


SHIFTLESSNESS  OF  THE  TENANTRY  35 

traditions  as  to  the  relation  of  labor  to  life.  Thus  they  usually 
dwelt  in  commonplace  small  log  cabins,  when  fifty  days  of  la- 
bor would  have  given  them  good  dwellings  of  the  same  easy 
construction.  They  put  up  with  "stick  chimneys,"  built  of 
small  round  timbers  daubed  with  clay,  which  were  always 
taking  fire  or  tumbling  down,  when  a  trifle  of  labor  would  build 
them  of  the  stone  which  could  be  had  by  lifting  it  from  the 
gullies  of  the  worn  fields.  In  many  cases  they  were  too  shiftless 
to  clear  the  dung  from  the  log  horse-stables;  they  would  let  it 
lie  until  it  was  no  longer  possible  to  get  the  animals  out  of  the 
doors,  then  pull  the  logs  apart  and  build  the  stable  elsewhere. 
In  my  youth,  I  never  knew  of  manure  being  put  upon  the  land. 
When,  about  1855,  my  father  began  the  use  of  it,  he  was  much 
laughed  at.  The  plan  was  to  till  a  field  until  it  was  worn  out 
and  then  let  it  go  to  grass  or  bushes  of  a  kindly  nature,  helped 
by  chance  sowing;  commonly  the  soil  washed  away  until  the 
lava  rock  was  exposed.  The  crops  were  mainly  tobacco  and 
grains,  and  as  there  was  no  system  of  rotation,  the  fields  rapidly 
became  exhausted.  The  more  careful  landlords  required  that 
their  tenants  should  plant  tobacco,  a  most  exhausting  crop,  only 
for  three  or  four  years,  and  then  set  the  land  in  grass;  but  gen- 
erally there  was  no  adequate  enforcement  of  the  rules,  so  that 
the  cleared  land  rapidly  became  worthless.  In  the  first  sixty 
years  of  this  atrocious  process  nearly  one  half  of  the  arable  soil 
of  the  northern  counties  of  Kentucky,  where  most  of  the  surface 
steeply  inclined,  became  unremunerative  to  plough  tillage. 

My  grandfather  did  what  he  could  to  contend  against  the  evils 
of  bad  tillage;  he  knew  of  the  metayer  system  and  copied  it, 
taking  his  rents  in  kind,  that  is,  in  a  share  of  the  crops.  I  well 
remember  the  times  when  the  payments  were  made,  including 
not  only  tobacco  and  grains  but  bags  of  wool,  feathers,  and  even 
beeswax.  To  dispose  of  these  goods,  he  had  a  store  where  other 
things  were  sold  as  well,  the  place  giving  occupation  to  the  ever- 
present  "poor  kin." 

The  body  of  the  people  with  whom  I  came  in  contact  were  the 


36      NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

poor  whites.  The  slaves  were  not  numerous  and  were  owned  by 
not  more  than  a  score  of  families  in  the  county.  They  were 
mostly  house-servants;  probably  not  as  many  as  two  hundred 
were  regular  field-hands.  Probably  not  five  hundred  in  all  were 
owned  in  the  county,  partly  for  the  reason  that  the  table-land 
of  the  region,  being  all  near  the  Ohio  and  the  Licking  rivers, 
was  so  deeply  indented  by  the  drainage  channels  that  it  was 
not  suited  for  large  plantations ;  but  mainly  for  the  reason  that 
slaves  readily  escaped  to  the  free  country.  What  negroes  there 
were  belonged  to  a  good  class.  The  greater  number  of  them 
were  from  families  which  had  been  owned  by  the  ancestors  of 
their  masters  in  Virginia.  In  my  grandfather's  household  and 
those  of  his  children,  who  were  grouped  about  him,  there  were 
some  two  dozen  of  these  blacks,  mostly  pretty  decent  and 
fairly  industrious  people.  They  were  well  cared  for;  none  of 
them  were  ever  sold,  though  there  was  the  common  threat  that 
"if  you  don't  behave,  you  will  be  sold  South."  One  of  the  com° 
monest  bits  of  instruction  my  grandfather  gave  me  was  to  re- 
member "that  my  people  had  in  a  century  never  bought  or  sold 
a  slave  except  to  keep  families  together."  By  that  he  meant  that 
a  gentleman  of  his  station  should  not  run  any  risk  of  appearing 
as  a  "negro-trader,"  the  last  word  of  opprobrium  to  be  slung  at 
a  man.  So  far  as  I  can  remember,  this  rule  was  well  kept  and 
social  ostracism  was  likely  to  be  visited  on  any  one  who  was 
fairly  suspected  of  buying  or  selling  slaves  for  profit.  This  state 
of  opinion  was,  I  believe,  very  general  among  the  better  class 
of  slave-owners  in  Kentucky.  When  negroes  were  sold,  it  was 
because  they  were  vicious  and  intractable.  Yet  there  were 
exceptions  to  this  high-minded  humor. 

There  is  a  common  opinion  that  the  slaves  of  the  Southern 
households  were  subjected  in  various  ways  to  brutal  treatment. 
Such,  in  my  experience,  was  not  the  case.  Though  the  custom 
of  using  the  whip  on  white  children  was  common  enough,  I 
never  saw  a  negro  deliberately  punished  in  that  way  until  1862, 
when,  in  military  service,  I  stayed  a  night  at  the  house  of  a 


STATUS  OF  THE  SLAVES  37 

friend.  This  old  man,  long  a  widower,  had  recently  married  a 
woman  from  the  state  of  Maine,  who  had  been  the  governess  of 
his  children.  In  the  early  morning  I  heard  a  tumult  in  the  back 
yard,  and  on  looking  out  saw  a  negro  man,  his  arms  tied  up  to  a 
limb  of  a  tree,  while  the  vigorous  matron  was  administering  on 
his  back  with  a  cowhide  whip.  At  breakfast  I  learned  that  the 
man  had  well  deserved  the  flogging,  but  it  struck  me  as  curious 
that  in  the  only  instance  of  the  kind  I  had  known  the  punish- 
ment was  from  the  hands  of  a  Northern  woman. 

In  the  households  where  I  was  intimate  the  slaves  were  on 
about  the  same  social  footing  as  the  other  members  of  the 
family;  they  were  subjected  to  sudden  explosions  of  the  mas- 
ter's temper  much  as  were  his  children.  I  well  remember  a 
frequent  scene  in  my  grandfather's  house,  whereto  it  was  the 
custom  that  I  should  go  every  Sunday  afternoon  for  counsel 
and  instruction.  These  were  at  first  somewhat  fearsome  occa- 
sions for  a  little  lad  thus  to  be  alone  with  an  aged  and  stately 
grandfather.  I  soon  won  his  interest,  in  some  measure  by  my 
fears,  and  came  greatly  to  enjoy  the  intercourse,  for  he  knew 
how  to  talk  to  a  boy,  and  we  became,  in  a  way,  boys  together 
in  our  sense  of  the  funny  side  of  things.  It  was  the  custom,  too, 
for  him  to  divide  the  session  of  three  or  four  hours  with  a  brief 
nap  taken  in  his  chair.  Meanwhile  I  had  a  picture-book,  or, 
after  I  was  about  ten  years  old,  when  I  could  read,  some  work 
he  deemed  profitable,  very  often  verses  to  commit,  most  com- 
monly from  Pope,  while  he  slept.  As  his  rooms  were  near  the 
negro  quarter,  he  would  make  ready  for  his  siesta  by  sending 
forth  the  servant-man  who  waited  on  him,  bidding  him  tell  the 
people  that  they  were  to  keep  quiet  during  the  performance.  I 
can  see  him  now  with  his  pig-tail  hanging  down  behind  the  back 
of  the  easy-chair  and  a  handkerchief  over  his  face  as  he  courted 
slumber.  For  a  minute  or  two  it  would  be  still,  then  the  hidden 
varlets  would  be  as  noisy  as  before.  Then  the  pig-tail  would 
begin  to  twitch,  and  he  would  mutter:  "Jim,  tell  those  people 
they  must  be  still."  Again  a  minute  of  quiet,  and  once  more 


38      NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

the  jabbering  and  shouting.  Now  with  a  leap  he  would  clutch 
his  long  walking-staff  and  charge  the  crowd  in  the  quarter, 
laying  about  him  with  amazing  nimbleness,  until  all  the  of- 
fenders were  run  to  their  holes.  Back  he  would  come  from  his 
excursion  and  settle  himself  again  to  sleep.  I  could  see  that  his 
rage  was  merely  on  the  surface  and  that  he  used  it  for  a  cor- 
rective, for  he  evidently  took  care  not  to  hurt  any  one. 

There  was  one  man  in  the  community  at  the  time,  of  some 
fortune,  who  had  an  evil  reputation  on  account  of  his  cruelty 
to  his  slaves.  One  of  them,  it  was  said  with  horror  which  evi- 
dently moved  his  neighbors  greatly,  owed  his  lamed  state  to  his 
master's  rage.  With  this  slaveholder  the  others  had  little  to 
do.  They  evidently  regarded  him  as  an  outcast  and  told  stories 
of  how  he  had  been  a  "negro-trader." 

Among  the  negroes  whom  I  remember  there  were  sundry  very 
old,  who  lived  together  in  a  building  in  the  quarter  and  were 
well  cared  for.  They  were  troublesome,  because  one  of  them, 
named  Bristoe,  had  an  ineradicable  fancy  for  harboring  low- 
down  whites,  who  would  be  found  from  time  to  time  hidden 
away  in  his  quarters,  where  they  shared  food  with  the  blacks. 
Among  these  unhappy  dependents  was  a  certain  aged  drunken 
vagabond  bearing  the  aristocratic  name  of  Lee  Sutherland.  He 
was  an  ancient  Virginian,  with  a  gentleman's  face  and  manner 
still  showing  through  his  debauched  misery.  He  had  no  known 
kindred,  and  many  efforts  to  keep  him  above  utter  degradation 
had  failed.  In  that  day  there  were  no  retreats  where  such  folk 
could  be  stored  away.  Each  time  Sutherland  turned  up  under 
Bristoe's  bed  there  was  a  hubbub  in  the  household.  Bristoe 
was  soundly  rated,  but  he  was  too  old  for  punishment  or  for  the 
threat  of  "selling  South"  to  have  any  effect  on  him.  He  en- 
joyed the  situation,  especially  the  peculiar  dignity  that  came 
to  him  from  protecting  a  man  of  quality.  On  one  occasion 
when  his  quarters  were  watched,  he  harbored  the  man  in  the 
ice-house,  where  the  wretch,  in  striving  to  crawl  beneath  the 
straw,  had  got  over  near  the  ice  and  was  found  nearly  frozen  to 


THE  VAGABOND  ELEMENT  39 

death ;  but  recovered  and  lived  to  vex  decent  folk  for  long  after- 
wards. 

My  grandfather's  defence  against  the  recurrent  shame  of 
having  Sutherland  among  his  negroes  was  ingenious.  Each  time 
he  was  found,  after  being  cleaned  up  a  bit  he  was  put  into  a 
wagon  and  hauled  away  for  a  day  or  two  of  driving,  and  then 
left  with  a  little  money  in  his  pocket.  The  creature  would 
slowly  work  his  way  back,  to  be  found  again  hidden  under 
Bristoe's  bed  or  in  some  near-by  barn,  where  the  old  black 
cared  for  him.  At  length,  after  a  distant  deportation,  he  did  not 
return,  and  no  one  knew  whether  he  had  died  on  his  way  back 
or  had  gone  to  fresh  woods  and  pastures  new. 

The  vagabond  element  in  the  life  of  the  place  was  far  more 
important  than  in  a  town  of  modern  days.  The  idiots  and  the 
insane,  as  well  as  the  ne'er-do-wells  of  all  classes  and  both  sexes, 
played  their  part  in  the  comedy  of  life.  The  open  market-house 
was  the  resort  of  all  this  loose  life.  There  the  houseless  were  wont 
to  sleep  until  disturbed  by  the  holders  of  the  stalls.  As  a  boy  I 
liked  to  rummage  among  the  lot  with  an  inquiring  interest  in 
the  odds  and  ends  of  folk.  I  remember  one  morning  cottoning 
to  an  old  man  I  had  awakened,  to  get  his  story.  It  seemed  that 
he  was  a  Revolutionary  soldier  who  had  been  wounded  in  the 
battle  of  Cowpens  ("Cuppens"  as  he  called  it) ;  he  had  come  in 
from  the  up-country  to  draw  his  pension  and  had  spent  it  on  a 
spree.  There  was  criticism  when  I  brought  the  ancient  home  for 
breakfast,  but  when  he  was  cleaned  up  and  verified  he  had  a 
welcome. 

Of  all  the  folk  who  were  about  me  the  survivors  of  the  Indian 
wars  were  the  most  interesting.  There  were  several  of  these  old 
clapper-clawed  fellows  still  living,  with  their  more  or  less  apoc- 
ryphal tales  of  adventures  they  had  heard  of  or  shared.  There 
was  current  a  tradition  —  I  have  seen  it  in  print  —  that  there 
had  been  a  fight  between  the  Indians  and  whites  where  the  gov- 
ernment barracks  stood,  and  that  the  wounded  whites  had  been 
left  upon  the  ground,  where  they  were  not  found  by  the  savages. 


40     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

One  of  these  had  both  arms  broken,  the  other  was  similarly 
disabled  as  to  his  legs.  It  was  told  that  they  managed  to  sub- 
sist by  combining  their  limited  resources.  The  man  with  sound 
legs  drove  game  up  within  range  of  the  other  cripple's  gun,  and 
as  the  turkeys  or  rabbits  fell,  he  kicked  them  within  reach  of 
his  hands,  and  in  like  manner  provided  him  with  sticks  for  their 
fire.  This  legend,  much  elaborated  in  the  telling,  gave  me,  I 
believe  at  about  my  eighth  year,  my  first  sense  of  an  historic 
past,  and  it  led  to  much  in  the  way  of  fanciful  invention  of  like 
tales. 

Among  those  men  who  in  their  youth,  and  even  their  boy- 
hood, had  been  in  tussles  with  the  savages  in  the  wars  with  the 
Illinois  Indians,  was  a  certain  ancient  of  the  name  of  Harris, 
who  kept  a  small  hardware  shop  which,  because  of  his  stories,  I 
much  inhabited.  His  exploits,  more  or  less  true,  were  summed 
up  in  certain  rules  as  to  how  to  "manage  an  Injun,"  which  he 
used  to  exemplify,  to  my  grinning  delight,  on  my  little  body. 
Much  as  in  the  preparation  for  rabbit  pie,  you  were  first  to  catch 
your  "  Injun."  The  clutch  was  well  prescribed  with  preliminary 
dissertation  on  the  folly  of  "standing  off  and  monkeying  with 
him."  Then  he  was  to  be  laid  face  to  the  ground;  your  knees 
were  to  be  planted  in  the  small  of  his  back;  with  the  left  hand 
you  were  to  seize  his  scalp  lock  and  pull  up  his  head,  and  with 
the  right  holding  the  knife,  taken  from  its  sheath  in  your  belt, 
you  cut  his  throat.  You  were  not  to  scalp  him,  as  some  unculti- 
vated persons  were  wont  to  do,  —  Harris  considered  that  to  be 
bad  form,  "real  Injun  manners,"  —  but  proceed  smartly  to 
the  next.  I  have  never  had  occasion  to  "manage  an  Injun," 
but  if  such  had  come  to  me,  I  am  quite  sure  that  I  should  in- 
stinctively have  essayed  the  task  in  the  manner  presented  by 
my  veteran  instructor. 

I  recall  that  several  of  these  old  fighters,  who  had  worked  at 
the  theory  of  battle  with  their  savage  enemies,  held  to  the 
notion  that  any  white  man  could  "lay  down"  in  the  manner 
above  described  any  Indian  he  could  manage  to  clutch.  I  have 


FIGHTING  41 

found  the  same  notion  among  the  frontiersmen  of  the  Far  West 
in  later  days.  It  seems  likely  that  there  is  truth  in  it ;  for  such 
men  are  in  the  position  of  teachers,  the  handers-on  of  traditions 
of  life  and  death,  and  do  not  speak  as  boasters.  May  it  not  be 
that  in  the  white  man,  as  a  part  of  the  predominance  of  his  more 
highly  organized  nervous  system,  there  is  a  greater  capacity 
for  yielding  in  a  few  seconds  a  larger  amount  of  energy  for  use 
in  the  muscles?  It  may  be  that  it  all  depends  upon  the  intensity 
of  the  more  highly  trained  will  of  the  white. 

When  I  was  ten  years  old,  and  began  to  be  attentive  to  the 
deeds  and  stories  of  men,  there  was  still  the  chance  to  see  many 
who  had  taken  part  in  the  War  of  1812-15.  It  was  less  remote 
than  the  Civil  War  is  from  our  time.  St.  Glair's  defeat  was  only 
a  little  over  half  a  century  in  the  past,  sundry  fights  with 
Indians  were  less  remote,  and  just  at  hand  were  the  tales  from 
Mexico  told  by  the  returning  troops,  so  that  I  breathed  an  air 
of  combat,  and  of  it  moulded  my  day-dreams  of  valor. 

The  people  with  whom  I  first  shaped  my  notions  of  life  were, 
by  their  history,  and  inevitably,  somewhat  bloodthirsty.  Their 
ancestors  came  largely  from  folk  who  had  fought  in  England 
and  Scotland,  to  fight  Indians  in  Virginia  and  North  Carolina, 
then  the  British  in  the  Revolution,  then  more  Indians  and 
more  British  in  the  Mississippi  Valley.  As  they  had  never  been 
at  peace  for  a  generation,  their  ideal  was  naturally  the  warrior 
and  his  battles.  This  led  to  the  feeling  that  combat  was  the 
fittest  occupation  of  a  man.  Among  the  poor  whites  the  fight- 
ing in  that  day  was  commonly  without  the  use  of  fire-arms  and 
usually  of  a  good-natured  brutality.  At  the  county  fairs,  or  the 
barbecues,  a  chap  with  the  devil  in  him  would  throw  up  his  cap 
and  shout  out  that  he  was  the  best  man  on  the  ground.  His 
nearest  neighbor  would  dissent  from  that  proposition;  where- 
upon there  would  be  a  rough-and-tumble  struggle  even  more 
unlimited  in  its  conditions  than  a  dog-fight.  Sometimes  the 
kinsmen  or  clansmen  of  the  combatants  would  join  in,  but  the 
ideal  was  that  the  two  should  be  left  to  settle  it  in  a  ring  of 


42     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

watching  bystanders.  To  my  father's  office  the  wounded  in 
these  battles  were  often  brought  for  treatment,  and  as  even  in 
childhood  I  often  acted  as  his  helper,  it  sometimes  fell  to  me 
when  he  was  absent  to  do  what  I  could  to  mend  their  hurts. 
This  gave  me  a  sense  of  what  to  do  in  the  way  of  surgical  aid 
which  afterward  served  me  well.  It  also  brought  me  near  to 
human  nature  in  the  rough.  Many  of  the  incidents  of  this 
experience  stay  by  me.  Especially  lasting  are  the  memories 
showing  the  endurance  and  rude  good-nature  of  these  primitive 
men.  At  the  moment,  I  recall  a  certain  Sam  McLaughlin,  who 
was  frequently  brought  for  repairs ;  finally,  he  was  lugged  in  on 
a  shutter,  with  a  knife  slash  across  his  abdomen  which  effect- 
ively disembowelled  him.  My  father  being  away,  I  was  washing 
his  protruding  entrails,  which  fortunately  were  not  wounded, 
and  returning  them  to  the  cavity,  while  he  with  his  head 
propped  up  was  scrutinizing  the  work.  I  said  to  him,  "Sam, 
you  ought  to  quit  fighting  —  you  aren't  good  at  it."  "My 
boy,"  said  he,  "I  am  the  best  fighter  in  this  here  county,  but  I 
ain't  good  at  judging  men." 

With  the  people  of  the  better  class,  fist  fights  were  not  un- 
common; they  were  looked  upon  as  amusing  though  perhaps 
somewhat  undignified.  These  fist  fights  left  no  rancor:  they 
seemed  to  be  mere  modes  of  expression.  I  remember  one  be- 
tween an  old  kinsman,  a  man  over  seventy  years  of  age,  and  his 
steward  of  like  age,  both  of  them  needing  spectacles  to  see  at  all. 
The  rounds  were  ended  on  one  side  or  the  other  with  the  cry, 
"Stop,  I've  lost  my  spectacles!"  whereupon  the  man  still  pro- 
vided with  sight  would  help  right  neighborly  to  find  and  restore 
the  glasses,  and  then  they  would  battle  again. 

Serious  matters  between  those  who  esteemed  themselves 
gentlemen  were  supposed  in  all  cases  to  be  settled  by  the  duel. 
For  this  social  need  much  preparation  was  made  in  the  way  of 
training  with  arms  and  careful  introduction  into  the  laws  and 
regulations  of  honor.  My  father,  who  thoroughly  disbelieved  in 
the  business  and  privately  ridiculed  it,  held,  as  I  found,  that  it 


THE  DUEL  43 

was  inevitable  that  a  man  should  accept  a  challenge  in  order  to 
keep  his  station.  He  had  me  very  carefully  trained,  saying  that 
if  you  were  a  well-known  expert  with  the  pistol,  rifle,  and  sword, 
ordinary  decent  behavior  would  keep  you  out  of  such  trouble. 
I  cannot  remember  when  I  began  to  shoot,  but  I  recall,  when 
not  more  than  seven  years  old,  a  weekly  exercise  of  some  hours, 
partly  because  the  light  rifle  used  by  its  recoil  made  my  shoul- 
der very  sore.  By  the  time  I  was  fifteen  I  was  an  expert  rifle- 
shot, including  the  varieties  of  "snap  shooting"  at  bottles 
thrown  in  the  air,  flying  birds,  and  the  like.  There  were  many 
who  could  beat  me  at  the  ancient  tests  of  "candle  snuffing," 
"nail  driving,"  or  other  deliberate  work,  but  I  led  in  all  such 
exercises  when  quickness  was  needed. 

Fencing  was  not  a  common  exercise  among  the  youths  of  that 
time  and  place,  but  my  father  had  me  begin  in  Cincinnati  with 
a  fencing-master  by  the  name  of  Scherer,  a  Frenchman,  when  I 
was  about  twelve  years  of  age.  Scherer,  who  claimed  to  be  an 
exiled  officer,  but  was  most  likely  of  the  drill-master  grade,  was 
a  great  master,  and  having  much  aptitude  for  the  work  I  was  in 
five  years  reckoned  very  good  in  small-  and  broad-sword,  sword 
and  dagger,  and  French  cane  exercises,  and  I  became  passion- 
ately fond  of  them.  The  master  claimed  that  I  was  the  best 
amateur  rapier  fencer  in  this  country  and  could  hold  my  own 
with  any  one  in  France  or  Italy.  I  kept  up  this  training  assidu- 
ously until  I  went  to  Harvard,  —  somewhat  later  indeed,  until 
the  Civil  War  completed  my  distaste  for  arms  and  all  that 
related  thereto. 

To  keep  together  the  story  of  Scherer,  a  character  who  de- 
serves record,  because  he  was  most  noteworthy  of  his  kind,  I 
shall  here  tell  more  of  my  relations  with  him,  which  were  in  a 
way  intimate  until  my  eighteenth  year  and  continued  until  the 
beginning  of  the  Civil  War.  He  was*  a  small  man  of  the  most 
intense  Gallic  quality,  the  human  equivalent  of  a  game-cock 
even  to  his  tread.  His  eager  little  soul  had  but  one  idea,  that  of 
combat,  an  idea  which  shone  from  his  livid  face,  which  had  a 


44      NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

beautiful  animal  quality.  All  his  talk  was  of  fighting.  His  only 
treasures  were  half  a  dozen  duelling-swords  with  blood-stains 
on  them,  and  of  each  he  had  the  most  precise  traditions  as  to 
the  place  of  entry,  the  nature  of  the  stroke,  and  the  result. 
These  he  showed  to  those  only  whom  he  esteemed  as  successful 
pupils;  they  were  to  him  sacred  relics  not  to  be  looked  at  by 
unworshipful  eyes.  He  was,  indeed,  the  most  perfect  man  of  a 
trade  I  have  ever  known,  in  that  he  was  absolutely  nothing  else. 

To  Scherer's  salle  d'armes  came  a  good  many  well-bred  lovers 
of  fencing,  among  them  Milton  Sayles,  afterwards  known  as  a 
politician  and  jurist,  a  young  man  of  much  quality  and  of  a 
large  nature.  Among  them  there  were  some  reprobates,  includ- 
ing a  dissolute  Britisher  with  the  preposterous  appellation  of 
Captain  Mars,  who  was  a  good  hand  with  the  broad-sword.  It 
was  the  custom  of  the  well-trained  habitue's  of  the  place  some- 
times to  fence  with  naked  broad-swords,  marking  the  strokes,  as 
the  phrase  is,  not  sending  them  home.  One  day  while  I  thus 
engaged  with  that  son  of  Mars,  he  was  attacked  with  a  sudden 
visitation  of  mania  and  began  a  real  assault  on  me.  One  of  v  his 
strokes  was  effective  enough  to  sting  me  so  that  it  became  a 
real  duel,  though  my  purpose  was  limited  to  disabling  his 
sword-arm  —  which  was  not  easy,  because  his  madness  made 
him  insensible  to  the  nips  he  received.  Scherer,  at  the  time  in 
another  room,  detected  by  the  sound  of  the  steel  that  there  was 
business  needing  his  attention,  looked  in  quickly,  grasped  the 
situation,  and  with  a  leap  pinioned  the  wight  and  flung  him  on 
the  floor.  As  a  bit  of  stout  daring  of  a  little  man  dealing  with 
one  twice  his  size,  I  have  never  seen  the  like. 

While  I  was  in  Cambridge,  I  saw  Scherer  only  from  time  to 
time.  When  I  returned  home  in  vacation  in  the  winter  of  1860- 
61, 1  found  him  awaiting  me  with  trouble  upon  him.  It  seemed 
that  a  rival  had  set  up  a  competing  school  of  fencing  and  had 
challenged  him  to  a  trial,  which  should  include  a  contest  between 
a  selected  pupil  trained  by  each  teacher.  The  contest  was  to 
take  place  in  a  hall  or  theatre  in  the  part  of  Cincinnati  known 


A  FENCING-CONTEST  45 

as  "over  the  Rhine."  Scherer  insisted  that  I  should  be  his 
pupil ;  this  I  at  first  refused  to  do,  but  his  tearful  woe  and  im- 
precations led  me  in  the  end  to  overcome  my  reluctance  to  take 
part  in  such  performances.  There  was  a  throng  of  spectators; 
for  some  reason  the  contest  had  aroused  attention.  Scherer's 
bout  with  his  antagonist  was  only  slightly  to  his  advantage,  for 
he  was  then  about  seventy  years  of  age  and  no  longer  at  his 
best.  When  it  came  my  turn,  I  found  myself  opposed  by  an- 
other six-footer,  most  elegantly  clad  in  white  buckskin  jacket 
with  an  embroidered  red  heart  covering  the  place  where  his  own 
was  supposed  to  lie.  After  the  ancient  grand  salute,  we  set 
about  it.  My  plan  was  always  to  take  the  defensive  and  hold  it 
with  no  returns  until  the  quality  of  the  antagonist  was  clear,  his 
tactics  evident,  and  his  guard  dropped  —  as  it  almost  inevit- 
ably will  drop,  if  there  is  no  occasion  to  parry;  then  to  take 
the  offensive  swiftly  and  with  determination.  I  managed  to 
protect  myself  for  perhaps  thirty  passes,  and  had  as  I  felt 
nearly  used  up  my  limit  of  retreat.  I  recall  the  white  teeth  of 
my  vis-a-vis  as  he  smiled  in  his  amusement  at  a  fencer  who 
could  only  parry,  however  well  he  might  do  that  part  of  his 
task.  At  length,  his  guard  was  low  enough  and  I  "stopped 
true"  on  him,  that  is,  lunged  out  the  instant  he  did,  for  the  em* 
broidered  heart.  To  my  horror,  the  blade  entered  to  the  hilt, 
and  the  fellow  fell  forward  and  sideways  to  the  floor,  pulling 
the  foil  out  of  my  hand  as  he  came  down,  and  lay  as  if  dead. 
Happily,  it  turned  out  when  his  clothes  were  cut  open  that  the 
button  on  the  foil  had  not  broken  off,  but  bent  sideways;  it  had 
then  ripped  through  the  leather,  padding,  and  inner  clothes, 
then  torn  the  skin  and  passed  out  beneath  the  arm.  The  hard 
blow  had  for  the  moment  stopped  the  action  of  the  heart.  In  a 
few  moments  the  man  was  himself  again.  It  is  an  ugly  thing 
even  in  mere  appearance  to  slay  a  fellow  against  whom  you 
have  no  ill-will,  so  I  had  a  very  bad  minute  or  so  before  the 
situation  was  evident ;  but  the  real  horror  of  it  was  the  demo- 
niacal screech  of  joy  and  triumph  from  that  old  sinner  Scherer 


46      NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

as  the  wight  went  down.  It  had  in  it  a  bit  of  hell.  I  managed 
to  get  away  without  a  word  with  him.  From  that  day  I  have 
never  held  a  foil  or  seen  a  fencing  bout,  except  some  of  the  pre- 
posterous things  on  the  stage. 

In  1865,  after  the  Civil  War  was  over,  I  met  Scherer  on  the 
street.  He  had  been  an  officer  in  a  cavalry  regiment,  and  the 
trials  of  service  had  brought  him  to  the  decrepitude  of  old  age. 
To  my  greetings  and  inquiries  as  to  his  service,  he  said,  "0 
Shaler,  that  was  a  coup  —  that  was  a  coup  !"  All  that  had  hap- 
pened since  seemed  to  have  passed  from  his  crapulous  mind. 
I  could  not  bring  him  back  to  his  deeds  as  a  soldier;  the  triumph 
of  his  pupil  pursued  him  altogether.  He  was  a  real  master. 

From  my  curiously  elaborate  training  in  arms  I  had  certain 
advantages  in  that  it  exempted  me,  as  my  father  judged  it 
would,  from  being  put  upon  or  bothered  with  challenges.  I  was 
but  once  thus  troubled,  and  then  most  unreasonably.  It  hap- 
pened that  the  person  who  supposed  he  was  offended  chose  a 
sensible  fellow  for  his  second,  who,  as  he  explained  to  me,  soon 
convinced  his  principal  that  he  was  playing  the  fool.  On  two 
occasions,  before  I  was  twenty  years  old,  —  boys  took  men's 
parts  in  those  days, — I  served  as  second  to  friends,  and  in  both 
instances  easily  adjusted  the  troubles  without  much  parley. 
The  first  occasion  was  when  a  silly  cousin  of  mine  with  too 
much  wine  in  him  challenged  a  well-known  duellist,  James 
Jackson,  who,  as  a  general,  fell  at  Perryville.  Fortunately,  I 
knew  Jackson  as  well  as  a  boy  of  eighteen  may  know  a  man  of 
twice  his  years.  I  made  my  plea  to  him  to  give  my  kinsman  an 
easy  way  out.  At  first  he  was  obdurate,  saying  that  he  would 
have  his  life,  —  he  had,  indeed,  reason  to  be  vexed,  —  but  in 
the  end  he  told  his  second  to  "fix  it  up"  with  me.  My  good,  I 
may  say  indeed  affectionate,  relations  with  Jackson  had  begun 
a  year  before  in  a  like  absurd  business  in  a  ball-room  in  Frank- 
fort. I  had  accidentally  stepped  into  the  mess  made  on  the 
floor  by  the  breaking  of  a  bottle  of  champagne,  which  he  as 
manager  was  trying  to  have  cleaned  up.  With  a  sharp  word,  he 


THE  CODE  47 

pushed  me  aside;  my  new-found  manly  dignity  was  offended; 
therefore,  as  usual  in  such  cases,  I  asked  him  for  his  card.  His 
answer  was:  "I  beg  pardon,  my  dear  sir,  I  took  you  for  a  boy." 
We  both  saw  the  fun  of  the  situation  and  became  friends.  He 
was  one  of  the  glories  of  this  world ;  he  lifted  my  sense  of  what 
it  was  to  be  a  man  —  the  ancient  type  of  gentleman.  The  other 
instance,  when  I  had  to  compose  trouble  between  men,  was  more 
serious.  In  1859  I  went  with  a  party  of  young  people  to  the 
Mammoth  Cave.  With  me  went  Courtland  Prentice,  son  of  the 
once  well-known  George  D.  Prentice,  editor  of  a  Louisville 
paper,  who,  though  some  years  my  senior,  was  then  my  nearest 
friend.  As  the  railway  was  not  completed,  we  journeyed  in 
stage-coaches  privately  hired.  At  a  relay  place  a  gentleman,  a 
stranger  to  us  all,  mounted  the  stage  and  sat  beside  my  friend, 
who  was  in  an  excited  state  and  resented  the  intrusion  in  an 
improper  manner.  It  quickly  came  to  the  point  where  he  had  to 
challenge  the  stranger,  which  he  did  on  the  spot.  There  being 
no  one  more  fit,  I  had  to  serve  Prentice  as  second.  Fortunately, 
as  the  other  principal  knew  no  one  in  the  throng  at  the  Mam- 
moth Cave,  I  had  to  help  him  to  find  a  second,  and  so  had  a 
very  reasonable  person  to  deal  with.  The  stranger,  who  turned 
out  to  be  a  well-known  duellist  from  Mississippi,  accepted  the 
invitation  to  battle,  choosing  as  weapons  shot-guns  with  buck- 
shot at  twenty  paces  distant  —  which  meant  certain  death  to  a 
novice.  But  once  again  the  difficulty  was  easily  arranged;  in 
fact,  they  were  with  rare  exceptions  mere  fooling. 

The  only  good  side  of  the  system  was  certain  features  of  the 
code  which  require  that  the  antagonists  should  not  dispute 
with  one  another,  and  that  as  soon  as  there  was  a  grievance  it 
should  be  put  into  the  hands  of  disinterested  persons ;  and  the 
further  theory  that  the  seconds,  with  an  arbiter  if  need  be, 
should  try  to  compose  the  matter,  their  decision  being  quite 
beyond  appeal.  One  of  the  maxims  —  one  often  impressed  on 
me  by  my  grandfather  and  other  elders  —  was  that  gentlemen 
sometimes  fought,  but  they  never  quarrelled  in  the  manner  of 


48     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

the  vulgar.  There  was  an  interesting  old  fellow  in  my  town 
who  instructed  the  younger  generation  in  the  code.  This  Major 
H.  had  been  an  officer  in  the  regular  army  and  was  then  crip- 
pled as  to  his  right  leg.  He  had  received  his  wound  because  of 
his  strict  adherence  to  one  of  the  many  peculiar  rules  which 
determined  the  process  of  duelling.  Being  second  to  a  man  who 
did  not  promptly  meet  his  engagement,  he  took  his  principal's 
place  at  the  appointed  moment,  and  the  bullet  lamed  him  for 
life.  This,  to  our  modern  sense,  is  something  at  once  for  laughter 
and  for  tears,  but  in  that  vanished  time  it  was  otherwise.  The 
incident  dignified  the  man  and  made  him  an  authority  in  an 
important  side  of  life. 

I  am  glad  to  say  that,  even  as  a  youth,  the  absurdity  of  the 
duel  was  plain  enough  to  my  mind;  but  it  was  an  institution 
like  slavery :  when  born  in  it,  whatever  one's  views  of  the  mat- 
ter, it  was  not  easy  to  get  out  without  being  disclassed. 

The  religious  people  of  Kentucky,  there,  as  elsewhere  among 
our  folk,  the  controlling  element,  shaped  laws  to  make  an  end 
of  duelling.  All  who  took  part  in  such  affairs  were  disfranchised, 
unable  to  hold  office,  and  liable  to  punishment,  as  if  they  were 
engaged  in  a  .conspiracy  to  commit  murder.  The  result  of  this 
drastic  legislation  was  to  make  an  end  of  duelling  and  to  bring 
in  its  place  the  more  serious  evil  of  "street  fights,"  which  were 
far  more  brutal  than  the  ancient  practice  of  regulated  battles, 
when  the  friends  of  the  disputants  could  almost  always  avoid 
serious  results.  In  the  time  of  my  youth  I  recall  but  two  deaths 
in  duels ;  but  since  that  custom  was  abolished  more  than  thirty 
of  my  kindred  and  friends  have  been  slain  in  these  brutal  en- 
counters. It  is  all  miserable  business,  but  as  a  choice  of  evils, 
so  long  as  men  are  bloodthirsty  animals,  the  duel  was  the  least. 


CHAPTER  III 

MY   DESULTORY   EDUCATION 

THIS  account  of  the  fighting  propensities  of  the  people  of  Ken- 
tucky began  with  the  story  of  my  training  in  arms  in  my  child- 
hood and  afterward.  I  now  return  to  the  process  of  my  better 
education  as  a  lad  passing  from  childhood  to  youth. 

At  about  ten  years  of  age  I  began  to  be  interested  in  animals. 
Rather  oddly,  this  interest  was  at  first  awakened  by  spiders.  It 
is  likely  that,  being  of  a  solitary  humor,  these  lonely  creatures 
aroused  my  sympathies.  I  quickly  came  to  know  the  familiar 
species  and  their  habits.  I  remember  getting  a  number  of 
large  glass  jars  from  my  grandfather,  a  dozen  or  more,  in  each 
of  which  I  kept  some  one  kind,  feeding  them  and  watching  their 
web-making  and  other  habits.  I  also  got  into  the  way  of  col- 
lecting and  hatching  cocoons  of  various  insects.  Thence  I  went 
to  studying  ants,  of  which  there  were  a  half  a  dozen  species. 
I  remember,  also,  a  great  interest  in  the  common  beetles.  These 
fancies  were  original,  for  there  was  no  one  about  me  with  the 
least  interest  in  these  creatures.  My  father,  though  much  given 
to  minerals,  paid  no  attention  to  the  wild  life  except  when  they 
menaced  his  roses  or  other  plants,  and  as  a  child  I  had  no  in- 
terest whatever  in  plants. 

After  a  year  or  two  of  a  rather  wild  devotion  to  "bugs/' 
which  was  the  subject  of  much  ridicule,  I  transferred  my  af- 
fections to  birds.  I  fancy  that  the  change  was  due  to  the  fact 
that  when  I  was  about  eleven  years  old  there  were  sundry 
extensive  "flights"  of  the  passenger  pigeon,  already  becoming 
much  reduced  in  number,  but  by  some  change  in  their  migrat- 
ing movements  for  a  time  a  very  conspicuous  feature.  For 
days  at  a  time  the  sky  would  be  flecked  by  these  birds  in  end- 
less flocks,  moving  this  way  or  that  in  search  of  feeding  or 


50     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

resting  places.  At  their  resorts  where  they  bred  they  were  merci- 
lessly slain  and  fed  to  the  droves  of  swine  gathered  there  for 
that  purpose.  By  1855  they  had  disappeared  from  that  part 
of  the  country.  It  is  not  unlikely  that  the  species  is  now  ex- 
tinct. Although  fond  of  climbing,  I  did  not  get  into  the  habit 
of  bird-nesting.  From  this  boy's  vice  I  was  debarred  by  a  keen 
sense  of  personal  relation  with  the  creatures.  I  had  my  satis- 
faction in  watching  their  building  work  and  in  this  followed 
through  the  construction  of  the  orioles,  swallows,  and  some  other 
species.  Naturally,  I  found  my  way  to  mating  pigeons,  and 
thence  to  the  other  domestic  fowls.  At  this  period,  much  of 
my  time  was  spent  on  various  farms,  particularly  on  a  place  of 
about  three  hundred  acres,  two  miles  from  the  Ohio  River,  now 
the  town  of  Southgate.  There  were  extensive  barnyards  with 
numerous  and  varied  fowl.  I  had  at  one  time  near  a  thousand 
pigeons,  along  with  cocks  and  hens,  geese,  ducks  of  several 
species,  and  several  varieties  of  turkeys.  My  love  for  these 
creatures  became  very  great,  but  it  gradually  reverted  to  a 
fancy  for  game-cocks.  This  was  caused  by  the  fact  that  near-by 
was  a  farm  altogether  devoted  to  rearing  male  birds  of  this  ad- 
mirable breed  for  the  West  Indian  markets,  some  thousand 
each  year  being  sent  on  their  way  to  distant  adventures.  It  was 
a  sight  and  sound  I  well  remember,  the  passing  of  a  huge  wagon 
with  a  frame  like  a  hay-rick,  on  which  were  hung  hundreds  of 
little  basket  coops,  each  holding  a  bird  and  with  a  little  open- 
ing through  which  he  could  stretch  his  neck  for  the  needed  ex- 
ercise of  crowing.  As  the  van  crept  down  the  way  to  the  steam- 
boat landing,  it  was  to  the  noise  of  the  united  challenges  of  all 
the  valiant  cargo,  a  curious  strident  note  that  could  be  heard 
from  a  mile  away. 

For  a  time  I  was  much  interested  in  the  battles  of  game- 
cocks. I  never  fought  them  with  "gaffs,"  those  detestable  con- 
trivances of  steel  shaped  like  lancets,  which  fit  the  cruel  notion 
of  Spaniards;  in  fact,  I  always  blunted  the  spurs  so  that  they 
could  not  give  a  deadly  blow.  What  charmed  me  was  the  valor 


COCK-FIGHTING  51 

of  the  creatures  and  their  curious  antics  and  devices  while  in 
combat.  All  the  eager  fondness  for  war  which  had  possessed 
me  from  five  to  twelve  years  of  age,  was  at  fourteen  narrowed 
down  to  a  delight  in  the  capers  of  these  cocks  with  blunted 
spurs.  I  remember  being  curious  to  find  whether  the  creatures 
learned  their  art  and  acquired  their  combative  motive  from 
their  elders.  As  an  experiment  I  hatched  one  of  them  of  a 
famous  stock  artificially,  and  brought  him  up  "by  hand,"  so 
that  he  did  not  have  a  chance  to  mingle  with  his  kind  until  he 
was  grown.  I  then  turned  him  with  his  natural  possession  of 
spurs,  which  were  keen  instruments,  into  the  above-mentioned 
barnyard,  where  there  were  a  dozen  males  of  his  species  of  the 
ordinary  degenerate  breeds,  bred  for  size  and  fecundity,  as  well 
as  two  male  turkeys,  a  Muscovy  drake  and  some  ganders.  It 
was  but  a  moment  before  he  was  in  battle  with  his  natural  ene- 
mies; these  cocks  he  speedily  dealt  with;  they  seemed  confused 
by  his  swiftness,  and  would  soon  turn  tail:  he  easily  daunted 
the  drakes  and  ganders,  but  the  turkey  gobblers  troubled  him 
sorely.  The  last  of  his  tasks  and  the  most  difficult  was  a  very 
large  white  gobbler  who,  when  attacked,  would  catch  his  small 
antagonist  wherever  it  was  convenient,  oftenest  by  what  was 
left  of  his  comb,  and  carry  him  dangling  in  the  air.  For  protec- 
tion the  cock  invented  a  curious  manoeuvre :  after  each  assault 
with  his  blow  of  spurs,  he  would  move  between  the  turkey's 
legs,  hide  his  head  in  his  feathers,  and  stay  thus  havened  until 
he  had  regained  breath  and  strength  for  another  stroke.  With 
leaps  or  short  runs  the  turkey  would  try  to  have  him  out,  but 
most  dexterously  would  he  manage  to  keep  thus  sheltered  until 
again  ready  for  an  assault.  The  device  was  successful,  so  that 
in  a  few  days  the  best  adversary  was  fairly  routed,  and  the  little 
warrior  was  cock  of  the  walk.  I  distinctly  remember  his  forlorn 
appearance  at  the  end  of  the  hard  campaign:  he  was  almost 
stripped  of  feathers  except  those  of  the  wings,  his  comb  and 
wattles  were  gone,  he  had  lost  one  eye,  but  the  trumpet  crow 
and  the  Scherer  stride  were  still  his. 


52      NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

This  bird  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  creatures  with 
which  I  have  ever  become  intimately  acquainted,  and  I  have 
been  fortunate  in  such  acquaintances  —  I  may  say  friendships  — 
with  birds  and  beasts.  He  seemed  to  have  for  me  a  measure  of 
affection  independent  of  any  expectation  of  food,  that  I  have 
never  seen  in  any  other  bird.  He  would  sit  on  my  knee  and  let 
me  stroke  him  as  a  dog  would  do,  yet  his  instincts  would  lead 
him  to  attack  me  if  I  meddled  with  his  hens.  On  one  occasion  I 
found  a  pullet  of  his  harem  imprisoned  in  a  picket  fence,  where 
she  had  managed  to  get  her  wings  through  a  space  not  wide 
enough  for  the  pelvis  to  pass.  It  was  a  matter  of  some  difficulty 
to  release  her,  and  she  squawked  lustily  as  I  strove  to  do  it.  All 
the  while  the  cock  was  near  by,  watching  me  with  his  one  eye 
and  dancing  with  excitement.  At  length,  when  the  pullet  gave 
a  louder  scream,  his  impetus  carried  him  away  and  he  planted 
his  spur  in  the  back  of  my  hand,  making  a  wound  the  scar  of 
which  I  can  faintly  trace  to  this  day. 

I  tell  this  seeming  overmuch  concerning  game-cocks,  in  part 
for  the  reason  that  it  is  through  them  that  I  came  to  an  intense 
interest  in  the  actual  life  of  animals,  which  has  been  to  me  a 
source  of  great  enlargement,  and  in  part  that  I  may  make  again 
my  plea  for  keeping  what  we  can  of  our  domesticated  animals 
near  the  primitive  stock.  Those  who  know  only  the  degrada- 
tions of  our  supercivilized  domesticated  birds  and  beasts,  have 
very  little  idea  what  a  natural  animal  is.  The  game-cock  is  one 
of  the  few  which  retain  a  fair  semblance  of  what  the  wilderness 
breeds;  he  is  perhaps  the  most  interesting  of  all  birds. 

On  another  occasion  "the  farm,"  so  called  to  distinguish  it 
from  certain  larger  and  more  remote  places,  gave  me  a  most 
instructive  experience  with  animals.  The  owner  of  a  menagerie 
placed  there  for  a  summer  under  a  keeper  a  fine  specimen  of  an 
elephant,  named  Hannibal,  and  also  a  camel.  With  the  elephant 
I  became  promptly  and  most  intimately  acquainted.  He  was 
commonly  chained  to  a  tree  on  the  edge  of  a  wood,  and  thereto 
I  went  every  day  for  many  weeks.  The  noble  beast  had  a  rather 


INTEREST  IN  ANIMALS  53 

bad  reputation  for  his  surly  temper,  but  for  me  he  had  only 
kindness.  It  is  true  I  came  laden  with  gifts,  bundles  of  clover 
and  sweet  corn  for  which  he  seemed  duly  grateful,  but  it  was 
not  all  a  matter  of  fodder.  The  great  beast  liked  to  play  with 
me,  lifting  me  with  his  trunk  as  if  he  would  throw  me  a  hundred 
feet  away,  and  then  searching  my  pockets  for  tid-bits.  I  can 
hear  him  now  as  he  would  trumpet  and  dance  when  I  came  in 
sight  and  when  I  went  away.  As  for  the  camel,  all  my  advances 
were  rejected;  the  miserable  brute  spat  at  me.  I  have  loathed 
camels  ever  since.  I  count  that  noble  game-cock  and  that 
glorious  elephant  as  among  my  teachers:  they  brought  me  to 
love  animals  and  appreciate  man's  relation  to  them. 

Like  other  lads,  I  had  much  to  do  with  dogs.  They  abounded 
in  the  society  in  which  I  was  reared ;  but  then,  as  now,  the  dog 
was  commonplace,  not  recognized  as  an  outside  animal,  but 
taken  rather  as  an  integral  part  of  man.  It  is  the  creatures 
which  have  their  independent  emotional  life  that  give  us  the 
great  lesson  of  our  kinship  with  the  lower  stages  of  living.  This 
lesson  is  sorely  needed.  I  have  known  famous  naturalists  who 
had  never  come  by  either  an  intellectual  or  emotional  under- 
standing of  their  place  in  the  chain  of  intelligence,  and  without 
this  a  man  remains  a  stranger  in  this  world. 

The  awakening  which  came  to  me  at  about  twelve  years  of 
age,  rapidly  led,  through  my  interest  in  animals,  to  a  general 
interest  in  all  the  visible  realm  of  nature.  My  father  had  some 
knowledge  of  mineralogy  and  a  keen  eye  for  all  natural  objects. 
He  had  in  his  study  the  remnants  of  what  had  been  a  really  good 
private  collection  of  minerals,  made  while  he  was  a  student 
under  instruction  from  Warren,  and  in  intimate  connection 
with  Charles  T.  Jackson,  a  brilliant  man,  afterward  well  known 
as  a  geologist.  There  were  not  more  than  a  hundred  specimens 
in  this  little  cabinet,  but  they  were  all  of  kinds  calculated  to 
arouse  the  curiosity  of  a  lad,  beginning  to  awaken  to  the  world 
about  him.  I  remember  rather  suddenly  turning  to  them,  espe- 
cially to  the  crystalline  shapes.  The  ordinary  dog-tooth  spar,  and 


54     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

the  staurolites  with  polished  ends  showing  the  cross  shape,  set  me 
to  thinking  as  to  what  shaped  them  so.  A  specimen  of  "  stink- 
stein/'  with  its  peculiar  odor  when  struck  or  rubbed,  gave  me  a 
sense  of  the  hidden  properties  of  things.  I  wore  it  out  in  repeat- 
ing the  experience,  and  for  a  time  went  about  making  like 
experiments  on  all  the  kinds  of  stone  I  could  find,  in  which  I 
detected  a  great  variety  of  odors,  and  pleased  myself  with  the 
notion  that  each  variety  had  its  own  distinct  smell.  As  there 
were  practically  no  crystalline  rocks  in  any  place  within  three 
hundred  miles  of  my  abode,  all  these  specimens  of  my  father's 
collection  were  to  me  as  from  another  world.  I  began  to  search 
for  the  like  in  my  endless  ramblings  afield,  and  to  my  great  joy 
found  some  gravel  beds  just  to  the  east  of  the  town  of  New- 
port, in  which  there  were  granitic  and  other  pebbles  from  the 
Archaean  rocks.  The  question  as  to  what  these  pebbles  meant 
came  to  me  with  its  revealing  power. 

I  well  recall  my  father's  explanation  as  to  the  origin  of  these 
bits  of  peculiar  rock  in  the  mill-bottom  gravels,  an  explanation 
which  shows  that  he  had  some  knowledge  of  the  general  geology 
of  the  Ohio  Valley.  It  was  that  they  had  been  brought  down 
from  the  mountains  by  the  waters  of  the  Ohio  River  and  depos- 
ited where  I  found  them,  when  the  bed  of  the  stream  was  higher 
than  it  now  is.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  these  gravel  beds  are  a  part 
of  the  frontal  deposits  made  by  a  tongue  of  ice  in  the  last  glacial 
period,  and  the  crystalline  pebbles  were  brought  from  the 
Archaean  district  of  Canada.  Yet  the  explanation  served  me 
well ;  as  a  means  of  mental  expansion  more  than  any  other  con- 
cept, it  led  my  mind  to  conceive  of  the  far-reaching  actions,  of 
the  world  as  a  place  where  work  was  done.  It  was  practically 
through  this  my  first  attention  to  rocks  in  the  field,  that  I  first 
came  to  discern  that  the  plentiful  fossils  in  the  lower  Silurian 
rocks  about  me  had  a  meaning.  I  must  have  seen  them  from 
an  early  age,  for  they  were  everywhere  in  the  fields,  and  I  was 
by  instinct  a  mouser  after  things  in  the  earth.  The  first  found  to 
attract  my  attention  was  a  common  trilobite,  the  Calymene 


INTRODUCTION  TO  GEOLOGY  55 

senoria;  it  is  most  often  found  rolled  up,  so  that  it  distinctly 
resembles  a  gigantic  oniscus,  or  sow-bug.  This  likeness  caught 
my  eye  and  led  to  the  notion  that  there  were  such  creatures 
turned  to  stone.  My  father  knew  in  a  general  way  what  it  was, 
and  so  I  found  the  path  to  the  idea  that  the  strata  of  the  country 
about  me  had  been  made  on  old  sea  floors  and  that  the  queer 
things  they  contained  were  the  shapes  of  creatures  which  had  of 
old  been  alive.  This  conception  I  came  to  when  I  was  about 
fourteen  years  of  age.  It  at  once  took  a  firm  hold  upon  me.  It 
was  one  of  the  shaping  understandings  of  my  life.  I  soon  found 
access  to  certain  geological  books  in  the  Mercantile  Library  in 
Cincinnati,  and  among  them  there  was  a  two-volume  edition  of 
Murchison's  "Silurian  System,"  the  first  geological  book  I  ever 
saw.  Most  of  it  came  beyond  my  comprehension,  but  the  figures 
gave  me  a  clue  to  names  of  fossils,  and  at  fourteen  years  a  lad 
has  enough  of  the  primitive  in  him  to  set  a  great  store  by  names. 
Probably  the  most  effective  source  of  enlargement  for  me 
in  these  passage  years  was  a  series  of  events  which  turned  me 
toward  astronomy.  Mitchel,  the  well-known  astronomer,  had 
established  an  observatory  on  the  river  bluff  in  the  eastern  part* 
of  Cincinnati,  the  buildings  of  which  I  saw,  and  the  uses  of 
which  I  had  heard.  I  had  also  heard  an  interesting  Irishman, 
by  the  name  of  Vaughan,1  who  taught  in  the  government  school 
that  I  attended,  kept  at  the  barracks  for  the  children  of  the 

i  This  guileless  Irish  dreamer  excited  the  sympathy  of  the  community,  and  my  father 
invited  him  to  spend  several  summer  vacations  at  his  house.  During  one  of  these  visits  he 
volunteered  to  teach  my  sister  and  me  something  of  astronomy.  The  lessons  were  usually 
given  outdoors  under  the  grape  arbor,  the  ground  serving  for  blackboard ;  on  it  he  drew 
with  his  cane  diagrams  commensurate  with  the  sweep  of  his  thoughts,  so  that  before  the 
hour  closed  his  illustrations  compelled  us  to  perambulate  the  garden  a  good  many  times 
over.  Although  beginning  simply  enough,  his  talks  soon  became  too  abstruse  for  us  to  fol- 
low, and  lured  by  the  shade  of  a  big  tree  it  was  our  habit  to  steal  away  and  amuse  our- 
selves with  terrestrial  objects,  while  he,  all  unconscious  of  the  desertion,  would  continue 
to  wander  alone  in  celestial  spaces.  At  table  he  was  so  absent-minded  that  dishes  would 
be  passed  before  him  unheeded,  until  some  member  of  the  family  would  put  food  upon  his 
plate  and  tell  him  decidedly  that  he  must  eat,  whereupon  he  would  mechanically  go 
through  the  process  of  filling  his  empty  stomach.  Now  and  then  he  would  disappear,  and 
after  a  search  be  found  in  some  humble  lodging  where  the  only  evidences  of  sustenance 
were  a  number  of  empty  paper  bags  which  originally  held  the  peanuts  that  for  days  had 
kept  body  and  soul  together.  —  S.  P.  S. 


56      NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

officers  and  soldiers.  Vaughan  knew  much  of  astronomy  and 
was  a  man  of  imagination  and  of  great  descriptive  powers.  His 
talks  were  beyond  my  understanding,  but  I  had  from  them  a 
dim  sense  of  vastness  which  perplexed  me.  At  this  time,  my 
father  in  some  way  obtained  for  the  period  of  several  months 
the  use  of  a  small  reflector  telescope  which,  as  I  remember  it, 
had  a  mirror  about  ten  inches  in  diameter;  it  was  made,  I 
believe,  by  a  man  named  Barlow  of  Lexington,  Kentucky,  who 
made  an  orrery,  or  planetarium,  showing  the  movements  of  sev- 
eral of  the  leaders  of  the  solar  system,  which  was  kept  in  the 
Mercantile  Library  of  Cincinnati,  and  in  which  I  greatly  de- 
lighted. The  telescope,  which  I  soon  learned  to  manage,  was  good 
enough  to  open  the  heavens  to  me :  up  to  that  time  only  the  sun 
and  moon  had  in  any  way  moved  me.  The  lunar  craters  greatly 
excited  my  curiosity,  as  did  also  the  satellites  of  Jupiter,  but  the 
great  awakener  was  the  ring  of  Saturn.  I  do  not  clearly  see  why 
it  was  so,  but  the  sight  of  that  ring  system  was  intellectually  the 
most  important  single  incident  of  my  life;  this  first  impression 
and  the  memory  of  the  startling  effect  of  it  on  my  mind,  stays 
by  me  with  a  distinctness  that  belongs  to  nothing  else  of  that 
time. 

I  have  thus  told  in  brief  the  conditions  of  my  surroundings 
which  served  to  awaken  and  in  some  measure  to  restrain  the 
awakening  of  my  mind.  It  is  fit  now  to  set  forth  the  little  I 
have  to  say  concerning  the  effects  of  this  desultory  education, 
by  noting  certain  states  of  my  mind.  First,  as  to  what  is  termed 
religion.  On  this  side  I  was  little  developed.  My  father  never 
went  to  any  church,  and  though  he  was  always  silent  on  the 
subject,  I  easily  knew  that  he  attached  little  importance  to 
what  was  taught  there.  My  mother  was  in  a  limited  way  a 
church-goer  and  kept  a  pew  in  the  Episcopal  church,  though 
she  often  went  to  the  Methodist  meetings,  taking  me  to  one  or 
the  other.  Of  these  churches,  both  of  the  orthodox  type,  I 
remember  only  the  tedium  of  the  performance  and  the  develop- 
ment of  an  intense  hatred  of  the  being  who,  with  the  power  to 


EARLY  ATTITUDE  TOWARD  RELIGION         57 

arrest  Satan  and  his  works,  permitted  him  to  torment  men. 
This  led  to  a  wild  desire  to  grow  big  enough  to  slay  the  pictured 
demon  who  would  permit  such  iniquities.  Against  the  devil 
himself  I  had  no  such  rage,  for  it  was  clear  that  he  was  only  a 
bigger  kind  of  bad  man,  such  as  I  saw  about  me.  This  was 
before  my  teens,  when  my  fancies  were  proportionately  valiant; 
after  I  passed  twelve,  came  utter  disbelief,  or  rather  a  turning 
away  from  the  whole  matter. 

The  concept  of  death  came  to  me  earlier  than  I  can  recall.  In 
the  barracks  hospital  men  were  constantly  dying,  and  as  I 
played  in  and  about  the  building  the  performance  went  on 
under  my  eyes.  The  funerals  with  the  covered  bier,  the  band 
playing  a  dead  march,  and  the  escort,  were  my  delight.  I  tagged 
on  to  it  to  see  the  brief  but  stately  ceremonies,  to  hear  the  vol- 
ley, and  then  the  quickstep  home.  So  death  came  to  be  accepted 
as  the  complement  of  life.  With  this  went  a  curiously  intense 
belief  in  immortality,  altogether  instinctive,  for  I  had  no 
teachings  concerning  it  except  in  sermons  which  did  not  affect 
me.  I  was  not  at  any  time  interested  in  the  matter  of  a  life  after 
death,  but  accepted  it  as  an  absolute  reality  based  on  feeling. 

The  only  movements  of  the  spirit  in  the  religious  field  which 
I  can  remember,  came  from  two  sources :  my  mother's  singing  — 
she  sang  simply  and  sweetly  —  of  the  better  hymns.  "From 
Greenland's  Icy  Mountains"  and  "Jerusalem  the  Golden" 
would  make  me  weep,  I  think  because  of  the  singing  and  not  for 
the  religious  sentiment.  Oddly  enough,  I  had  a  curious  kind  of 
affection  for  Christ;  I  revolted  at  his  submissiveness,  but  the 
sense  of  his  love  for  all  living  creatures  made  him  dear,  despite 
that  infirmity,  in  which  he  was  so  unlike  the  heroes  with  whom 
I  still  dwelt.  The  other  spiritual  influence  came  from  the  negroes. 
A  number  of  them  used  to  meet  at  night  to  talk  religion  beneath 
a  shed  which  lay  open  to  the  northern  sky.  One  of  them,  well 
named  "Old  Daniel,"  had  a  fervid  imagination  and  excellent 
descriptive  powers.  He  would  picture  the  coming  of  the  great 
angel  as  if  it  were  before  his  eyes;  the  path  of  light  shooting 


58      NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

down  from  about  the  North  Star,  —  the  majesty  of  his  train. 
Then  the  rolling  up  of  the  heavens  "like  a  scroll"  —  I  did  not 
know  what  this  process  was  like,  but  it  seemed  vaguely  fine  — 
and  then  the  burning  up  of  the  world.  I  was  always  greatly 
moved  while  hearing  these  exhortations,  which  must  indeed 
have  been  rather  wonderful  things,  but  they  made  no  perma- 
nent impression  upon  me.  In  fact,  I  regarded  them  as  "nigger 
talk." 

Until  I  was  twelve  years  of  age  I  think  that  I  had  no  sense 
whatever  of  natural  beauty.  I  showed  no  disposition  to  draw 
or  to  model,  except  with  my  preposterous  fortifications,  which, 
as  I  recollect  them,  indicated  a  considerable  ability  to  shape 
clay  to  my  mind,  and  a  decided  ability  for  pop-gunning.  But 
as  I  entered  my  teens,  the  sense  of  natural  beauty  suddenly, 
indeed  remarkably,  awakened.  In  less  than  a  year  I  suddenly 
developed  a  temporary  rage  for  drawing.  Without  any  lessons 
or  examples,  I  covered  square  yards  of  whitewashed  walls  with 
landscapes,  in  part  copies  from  books,  but  as  I  recall  with  some 
trace  of  inventive  power  in  them.  People  came  much  to  see 
them,  so  that,  I  found  myself  an  infant  prodigy.  Then,  alas,  I 
was  sent  to  a  drawing-master  in  Cincinnati,  a  German  by  the 
name  of  Welsh.  He  set  me  to  hard  tasks,  and  the  desire  evapor- 
ated, so  that  in  six  months  I  detested  it  altogether.  I  have 
never  since  been  able  to  draw  in  a  way  to  give  me  any  pleasure. 
I  am  inclined  to  think  that  I  must  have  had  some  sense  of 
pictures  at  that  time,  —  they  have  always  pleased  me  when  the 
drawing  was  true,  —  for  an  incident  shows  that  I  was  not  blind 
to  the  expressions  of  nature.  While  with  Welsh  as  a  very  inept 
pupil,  some  people  came  to  look  at  a  landscape  he  was  painting. 
They  admired  it  as  a  sunset;  when  they  had  gone  away  I  asked 
him,  to  his  great  delight,  if  it  were  not  a  sunrise.  That  I  saw  the 
difference,  which  was  plain  enough  to  any  seeing  lad  of  fourteen, 
made  him  think  that  I  would  be  an  artist;  but  I  was  at  this 
stage  incapable  of  the  needed  labor. 

My  newly  awakened  love  for  the  aspects  of  nature  was  shown 


AWAKENING  LOVE  OF  NATURE  59 

by  my  eager  search  for  points  of  view  of  the  landscape,  especially 
those  which  included  the  Ohio  River,  which  from  the  first  had 
been  a  source  of  movement  to  me,  at  the  outset  awaking  the 
sense  of  mystery,  which  swiftly  passed  to  that  of  beauty.  The 
sense  of  mystery,  that  emotion  which  makes  against  the  com- 
monplace state  of  mind,  was  from  the  beginning  strong  in  me, 
as  I  believe  it  is  in  most  sensitive  persons.  At  first  it  was  min- 
gled with  the  primitive  fear,  —  fear  of  the  dark,  of  the  depths 
of  the  earth,  of  the  great  river,  of  men  and  animals.  This  sense 
of  mystery  appears  to  have  been  a  kind  of  emboldened  fear,  and, 
with  that  of  natural  beauty,  to  have  evolved  itself  from  the 
feeling  of  awe  before  the  great  mystery  of  all  things.  At  first 
this  aesthetic  sense  seemed  to  relate  only  to  the  larger  aspects  of 
the  world,  to  sunrise  and  sunset  and  the  vistas  of  the  great 
stream.  Though  my  father  was  given  to  a  love  for  flowers 
and  I  was  in  the  habit  of  caring  for  them  in  the  garden  and 
greenhouse,  they  did  not  greatly  delight  me  while  I  was  a  child  ; 
all  emotional  sense  of  the  beauty  of  such  things  began  to  develop 
some  time  after  puberty. 

Turning  now  to  my  formal  schooling,  it  may  be  said  that  I 
had  none  of  any  account  until  I  was  more  than  ten  years  of  age. 
My  father  judged  it  well  to  let  me  go  my  way  up  to  that  time; 
all  the  slight  efforts  to  cage  me  in  a  room  and  make  me  learn 
definite  lessons  seem  to  have  made  me  ill.  I  suspect  that  a 
share  of  this  illness  was  fictitious,  contrived  to  avoid  the  hated 
caging  in  the  school-room,  but  it  had  a  real  basis  in  a  certain 
abnormal  nervous  sensitiveness  which  has  always  made  the 
house  a  prison  to  me.  That  it  was  not  from  laziness  is  shown 
by  my  considerable  zeal  in  following  my  vagarious  activities. 
Between  eleven  and  twelve,  I  was  sent  to  the  above-mentioned 
barracks  school,  which  was  under  the  charge  of  the  government 
chaplain,  an  educated  Virginian  of  high  character  and  ancient 
lineage.  The  teaching  was  mainly  in  the  hands  of  two  men  who 
were  sergeants  in  the  permanent  garrison  of  the  post,  men  of 
training  and  large  quality,  who,  as  was  often  the  case  in  the  old 


60     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

army,  sought  refuge  there  from  the  battle  of  the  world,  in  which 
they  had  been  beaten.  It  was  a  rough-and-tumble  school,  made 
up  of  some  children  from  the  garrison  and  a  dozen  or  so  lads 
from  town  families.  There  I  learned  the  elements  of  Latin, 
Greek,  and  mathematics,  acquired  reluctantly  with  frequent 
long  absences,  due  to  nervous  illness  and  general  insufficiency 
of  health.  In  my  eleventh  year  these  troubles  began  to  take 
the  form  of  megrim,  commonly  known  as  sick  headaches,  a 
torment  which  for  fifty  years  sorely  vexed  my  life.  This  malady, 
the  opprobrium  of  medical  science,  came  to  me  by  double  in- 
heritance, and  on  both  sides  of  my  house  it  had  affected  my 
ancestors  for  at  least  three  generations.  For  some  years,  until  I 
trained  myself  to  go  on  with  my  work  while  suffering,  these 
visitations  troubled  me  for  at  least  two  days  in  a  fortnight.  One 
of  the  compensations  of  age  is  that  they  greatly  diminish  in  fre- 
quency and  weight.  After  about  three  years  in  this  school, 
where  I  learned  very  little  except  the  art  of  dodging  duties,  in 
which  I  became  fairly  expert,  in  my  fifteenth  year  my  father 
found  a  tutor  for  me,  a  German-Swiss  clergyman,  who  had 
wandered  with  his  wife  and  children  to  this  country  in  the 
movement  of  1848,  and  had  been  obdurately  unsuccessful  in  his 
efforts  to  establish  himself  in  charge  of  a  church.  As,  next  after 
my  grandfather  Southgate,  this  man  had  the  most  influence  in 
shaping  my  mind,  —  in  fact,  the  most  of  any  in  the  passage 
from  youth  to  manhood,  —  I  shall  now  seek  to  give  an  account 
of  him. 

Johannes  Escher  was  from  eastern  Zurich,  of  the  well- 
known  family  of  that  name.  He  was  of  moderate  parts  and 
had  been  well  credited  at  Heidelberg  and  Tubingen.  Though 
trained  as  a  theologian,  his  bent  was  altogether  towards  philo- 
sophy:  he  was  a  Hegelian  with  the  curiously  intense  devotion  to 
the  faith  which  characterized  the  followers  of  that  master.  His 
absorption  in  his  philosophical  creed  withdrew  him  from  the 
world,  so  that  his  interesting  wife  and  attractive  children  seemed 
remote  from  him.  His  only  keen  interest  that  remained  in  his 


>"      OF   THE    -  \ 

UNIVERSITY  j 

OF  / 


A  SWISS  TUTOR  61 

middle  age  was  in  the  classics  and  in  the  poetry  of  his  own  lan- 
guage. All  the  rest  of  life  appeared  to  be  unreal  to  him.  It  was 
probably  the  admirable  contrast  of  the  quality  of  this  dreamer 
with  those  about  me  that  caused  me  to  cleave  to  him;  so  that 
we  were  for  three  years  very  near  to  one  another.  Naturally 
curious  about  people  and  their  ways,  I  found  in  Escher  a  revela- 
tion of  a  new  genus  of  mankind ;  his  ways  of  looking  at  matters 
curiously  interested  me.  Moreover,  in  this  my  fifteenth  year,  I 
began  to  have  some  capacity  for  continuous  work  and  did  my 
hard  lessons  in  Latin,  Greek,  and  German  under  his  tutorage 
with  assiduity.  His  method  of  teaching  was  for  me  the  best. 
As  soon  as  I  could  read  Latin  with  a  little  facility,  he  forced  me 
to  read  aloud  to  him  rapidly  without  rendering  into  English,  he 
reading  brief  comments  in  that  language  and  compelling  me 
to  ask  my  questions  as  best  I  could  also  in  Latin.  In  this  way 
he  forced  me  to  think  in  the  language  we  had  in  hand.  I  had 
already  been  fairly  trained  in  Latin  grammar;  I  was  now  made 
to  use  Zumpt's  more  ancient  but  better  work.  In  this  way  we 
went  over  a  much  larger  body  of  literature  than  the  ordinary 
student  traverses,  including  all  of  Virgil,  Caesar,  Ovid,  Cicero, 
parts  of  Horace,  Tacitus,  etc.  From  the  point  of  view  of  scholar- 
ship, this  left  much  to  be  desired,  yet  as  I  was  made  to  commit 
a  large  part  of  the  Iliad  and  much  of  Cicero,  I  am  inclined  to 
think  that  I  had  more  of  value  from  my  tasks  than  most  students 
gain.  In  Greek  his  method  was  similar;  but  I  went  not  near 
so  far  with  him  in  that  language  as  in  Latin.  I  did  some  com- 
position work  in  the  way  of  written  translations  and  a  little  of 
it  in  metric  form,  but  this  part  of  his  teaching  was  ill  done. 

In  German,  Escher  pushed  me  forward  rapidly  in  speaking, 
writing,  and  reading,  so  that  while  with  him  I  read  practically 
all  of  the  poetic  work  of  Goethe  and  Schiller  and  parts  of  the 
other  notable  poets  who  have  written  in  that  language.  At  that 
stage  of  my  life  I  had  already  gained  some  acquaintance  with 
English  poetry  and  had  acquired  the  art  of  committing  verse  in 
such  a  measure  that  I  had  won  a  wager  by  committing  Byron's 


62     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

"Siege  of  Corinth"  and  reciting  it  without  error  in  one  day.  I 
was  less  successful  with  German,  but  memorized  several  thou- 
sand lines  of  its  classics.  Here  I  may  turn  aside  to  note  the  fact 
that  this  habit  of  committing  to  memory  was  very  common, 
indeed  fashionable,  in  the  society  in  which  I  dwelt  as  a  youth  ; 
it  was  held  to  be  an  index  of  culture,  a  necessary  part  of  a  gen- 
tleman's outfit.  I  recall  an  old  kinsman,  a  man  who  seemed 
absorbed  in  a  life  made  up  of  business  cares  and  dissipations, 
who,  when  suddenly  called  on  in  a  gathering,  declaimed  Man- 
fred's soliloquy  correctly  and  with  vigor.  I  have  heard  many 
others  of  the  same  common  stock  do  like  feats.  This  fashion 
seems  to  have  been  a  survival  of  the  old  English  habit,  when 
literature  was  taken  more  seriously  than  in  this  day.  Thus  it 
was  that  by  the  time  I  was  eighteen  years  of  age,  in  competition 
with  the  youths  about  me,  I  had  stored  away  not  less  than  fifty 
thousand  lines  of  English,  Latin,  and  German  verse,  a  large  part 
of  which  stays  with  me  to  this  day  and  has  been  a  helpful  store. 

With  Escher  I  found  my  way  to  the  society  of  Germans  in 
Cincinnati,  a  most  interesting  group  of  men  from  whom  I  had 
much  enlargement.  Some  of  the  ablest  of  these  were  accus- 
tomed to  meet  at  a  beer  hall  in  the  part  of  the  town  north  of  the 
canal.  There  were  many  of  these  men  of  quality,  the  best  of  the 
exiles  of  1848.  Of  them  I  recall  Stallo,  —  afterwards  minister 
to  Italy,  —  a  newspaper  editor,  and  a  rabbi  whose  name  has  not 
abided  with  me  though  his  admirable  shape  is  still  plain.  These 
were  strong  men:  their  talk  made  a  great  impression  on  me, 
and  their  personal  quality  did  much  to  lift  me  to  a  higher  level 
of  ideals  than  any  our  people  supplied. 

Gradually,  probably  with  no  purpose  of  teaching  his  philoso- 
phy, Escher  inducted  me  into  the  mystery  of  Hegel,  so  that  by 
the  time  I  was  seventeen  I  was  deeply  infected  with  his  noble 
madness.  The  field  of  metaphysical  speculation  opened  before 
me  as  a  new  universe;  of  all  the  vagarious  devotions  of  my 
childhood  and  youth  this  took  the  firmest  hold  upon  me.  I 
began  to  read  all  I  could  of  philosophers  and  their  writings. 


YOUTHFUL  LOVE  OF  PHILOSOPHY  63 

The  Mercantile  Library  in  Cincinnati  had  many  such  books 
which  I  devoured.  I  recall  the  pleasure  with  which  I  bought  a 
set  of  G.  H.  Lewes's  "History  of  Philosophy,"  a  rather  poor 
book  as  I  now  see  it,  but  then  a  treasure  in  my  eyes.  I  had  two 
German  manuals,  the  titles  of  which  I  have  forgotten.  The 
curious  thing  about  this  prolonged  excursion  is  that  I  really  got 
something  out  of  it.  I  appear  even  to  have  gained  an  adequate 
idea  of  Kant's  "Critique,"  though  I  doubt  if  I  could  compass  it 
to-day  without  much  labor.  With  all  this  intense  interest  in  the 
speculations  of  men  and  the  history  of  the  evolutions  of  their 
systems,  I  had  no  real  belief  in  the  essential  verity  of  them. 
They  charmed  me  as  an  exercise  of  wits  much  as  did  chess,  to 
which  at  this  time  and  at  various  later  periods  I  became  ad- 
dicted. The  sense  of  the  difference  between  speculative  and 
experimental  inquiry  was  so  far  in  my  nature  that  when  at 
about  nineteen  years  of  age  I  came  in  contact  with  the  work  of 
Auguste  Comte,  my  interest  in  philosophic  systems  rapidly 
declined,  to  be  roused  in  a  limited  way  in  after  life,  and  then 
only  as  the  means  of  rationalizing  the  evidence  afforded  by  the 
phenomenal  world. 

While  my  youthful  love  of  philosophy,  though  for  two  or 
three  years  very  great,  bore  no  immediate  fruit,  the  ground  on 
which  the  seeding  fell  was  essentially  strong,  and  it  had  certain 
secondary  effects  which  have  been  of  permanent  value  to  me. 
No  youth  can  be  filled  with  that  vast  concatenation  of  semi- 
logical  deductions  from  an  impossible  postulate  which  makes 
up  the  system  of  Hegel,  and  in  the  end  purge  himself  of  it  all, 
without  very  enlarging  experiences.  If  he  goes  further,  and 
sympathetically  takes  in  the  speculations  of  the  Greek  and 
German  philosophers,  and  works  himself  through  the  main 
notions  of  the  English  and  Scotch  schools,  even  if  at  the  end  he 
casts  it  all  away,  he  has  a  thought  background  for  all  his  life. 
If  one  can  be  in  the  society  of  these  futile  giants  and  in  the  end 
escape  from  them,  it  is  well  for  him.  Intellectually  there  are,  in 
my  opinion,  few  things  worse  than  to  be  cramped  and  kept  in 


64     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

any  kind  of  logical  prison,  but  they  are  capital  places  for  exer- 
cising the  wits. 

One  effect  of  the  study  of  philosophy  was  that  I  became  very 
much  interested  in  the  history  of  Greece.  I  read  several  works 
on  the  subject  and  bought  a  set  of  Grote's  great  twelve- volume 
book  and  studied  it  with  much  care  when  about  seventeen  years 
of  age.  Long  afterwards  I  found  an  abstract  of  these  volumes 
which  I  had  made.  It  was  laboriously  done,  and  with  a  measure 
of  intelligence  which  gave  me  a  certain  respect  for  the  vanished 
lad  which  I  had  not  previously  entertained. 
'As  I  look  back  on  the  stages  of  my  life  up  to  my  eighteenth 
year,  I  have  the  curious  impression  that  it  was  not  a  continuous 
existence,  with  a  progressive  intercalation  of  characteristics, 
but  a  number  of  disjointed  personalities  tagged  with  a  common 
name.  The  child  up  to  about  ten  years  of  age  was  not  the  father 
of  the  lad  of  twelve;  nor  was  that  rather  ill-conditioned  urchin 
gradually  transformed  at  fifteen  into  the  beginnings  of  a  specu- 
lative philosopher.  These  individualities  inhabited  one  unfolded 
body,  but  while  there  were  links  connecting  them,  they  seem  to 
have  been  curiously  unrelated.  This  impression  is  doubtless 
partly  due  to  the  lack  in  this  formative  period  of  a  continuous 
thread,  such  as  is  afforded  by  the  usual  uninterrupted  process 
of  schooling.  I  was  left  free  to  move  with  the  natural  currents 
of  my  inner  life,  so  that  heredity  and  what  may  be  termed 
natural  environment  had  free  play.  For  long  I  thought  that  this 
lack  of  systematic  training  in  my  youth,  though  in  some  meas- 
ure due  to  my  frail  health,  was  a  wrong  done  me.  As  I  have 
grown  older,  and  seen  some  of  the  effects  of  our  schooling  in 
stunting  the  development  of  youths,  I  have  come  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  in  my  case  it  was  a  piece  of  good  fortune  that  I  was 
thus  left  mainly  to  my  native  impulses.  It  cost  me  rather  dear 
on  some  sides  of  my  education,  especially  in  the  field  of  mathe- 
matics. Had  I  been  properly  ushered  into  that  science  in  place 
of  being  left  to  my  own  devices,  I  should  have  gone  forward  to 
a  fair  measure  of  command  of  it  as  an  instrument  of  inquiry, 


RESULTS  OF  A  DESULTORY  EDUCATION       65 

instead  of  being  compelled  to  flounder  with  its  methods  or  avoid 
them  altogether.  The  lack  of  adequate  knowledge  of  calculus 
has  ever  been  to  me  a  great  hindrance  in  my  work./ 

The  lack  of  adequate  training  in  the  classics,  which  I  suffered 
from  the  imperfection  of  my  youthful  training,  has  been  a  source 
of  regret  rather  than  inconvenience  in  my  later  life.  I  gained 
more  than  a  fair  scholarly  sense  of  the  value  of  Greek  and  Latin 
thought  and  phrase,  so  that  I  have  been  able  to  possess  myself 
of  its  meaning  and  quality.  As  regards  my  own  speech,  in 
which  I  never  had  a  lesson  except  from  the  proof-readers,  the 
society  in  which  I  dwelt  and  some  native  capacity  for  appre- 
ciating men,  served  me  fairly  well;  better,  indeed,  than  the 
formal  teaching  which  has  been  the  share  of  those  of  my  station. 
Of  the  other  modern  languages  with  which  I  have  been  thrown 
in  close  contact,  German,  French,  Spanish,  and  Italian,  my 
acquaintance  has  been  limited  to  a  capacity  to  speak  and  read 
them  in  an  effective  smattering  way,  which,  though  unscholarly, 
has  sufficed  to  open  books  and  the  hearts  of  men  at  my  need. 
Out  of  the  jumble  of  experiences  which  served  me  as  an  educa- 
tion, came,  above  all,  a  capacity  to  find  from  time  to  time  my 
bent  and  to  follow  it  with  a  fair  measure  of  determination ;  to 
be  in  effect  my  own  master  for  my  own  purposes;  to  rest  little 
on  authority  and  to  have  a  real  love  of  the  discoverable  fact. 
Unlike  the  overtrained  youth  of  the  modern  school,  who  is 
crowded  for  all  his  years  of  preparation  so  that  his  spontaneous 
impulses  never  have  chance  to  take  shape,  I  was  allowed  to 
evolve  myself  in  a  more  normal  way.  Something  of  the  very  fair 
success  of  this  experiment  in  my  case  was  due  to  the  fact  that 
the  life  I  shared,  though  rude,  was  that  of  very  actual  men,  and 
to  the  combination  of  the  effective  environment  which  bore  in 
upon  me  in  a  way  fitted  to  the  needs  of  my  nature. 


CHAPTER  IV 

FIRST   VISITS   FROM   HOME 

THERE  were  certain  experiences  of  my  life  between  my  four- 
teenth and  eighteenth  years  which  have  not  found  their  place  in 
this  story,  but  deserve  telling,  for  they  had  their  share  in  my 
shaping.  Up  to  the  age  of  fourteen  I  was  kept  within  a  narrow 
range  of  country,  not  wandering  further  away  than  twenty 
miles  from  my  birthplace;  the  farthest,  to  certain  large  farms 
belonging  to  my  grandfather  about  that  distance  up  the  Licking 
River,  which  were  in  charge  of  a  kinsman  by  the  name  of  Hinde, 
a  large,  simple-minded  man,  the  type  of  the  English  squire. 
There  I  fell  in  with  a  more  primitive  folk  than  dwelt  in  and  near 
the  town,  people  essentially  like  those  who  were  later  discovered 
by  literary  folk  in  the  mountains  of  eastern  Kentucky  and 
Tennessee  and  the  adjacent  parts  of  Virginia  and  the  Carolinas. 
With  them  I  learned  the  arts  of  the  hunter.  Deer  were  still  to  be 
found  and  wild  turkeys  were  abundant.  The  men  had  the  skill 
of  the  frontiersman  and  his  traditions  in  tracking  game.  Two 
of  these  rustics  stay  in  my  mind :  one  was  a  gray-haired  old  man 
who  had  an  amazing  skill  with  the  rifle  then  in  use,  the  long, 
heavy-barrelled  piece  with  a  bore  so  small  that  a  hundred  or  so 
spliced  bullets  were  had  from  a  pound  of  lead.  As  for  shot-guns, 
he  despised  them  utterly.  I  remember  that  when  a  friend  of 
mine  joined  our  hunting  party  armed  with  a  double-barrelled 
fowling-piece,  this  ancient  hunter,  after  examining  it  carefully, 
said,  "Stranger,  you  ain't  a-going  to  tote  that  ar  thing  with  us; 
there's  no  knowing  what  it  '11  do." 

Among  the  lads  near  my  age,  was  one  of  sixteen  years  who 
was  a  really  marvellous  shot,  especially  at  wild  turkeys  on  the 
wing,  very  difficult  birds  to  hit  with  a  rifle-ball.  One  day  we 
started  a  flock  in  a  wood  where  in  their  flight  they  were  only 


CONTACT  WITH  A  PRIMITIVE  FOLK          67 

visible  in  crossing  a  narrow  roadway.  The  boy  shot  the  first  to 
appear,  placed  the  bullet  in  the  small  space  between  the  base  of 
the  wings  and  the  top  of  the  thighs  where  it  needs  to  be  placed 
so  that  the  wounded  animal  can  neither  run  nor  fly;  the  distance 
was  paced  by  the  master  of  the  hunt  and  determined  to  be  two 
hundred  and  eight  yards.  It  was  not  a  fluke,  for  the  fellow  did 
much  such  shooting.  He  had  that  curious  organic  perfection 
which  alone  makes  such  deeds  possible. 

Because  I  came  to  know  these  countrymen  and  acquired  that 
habit  of  dealing  with  the  wilderness,  I  was  often  called  on  by  my 
elders  to  take  charge  of  the  search  for  the  "corners"  of  land  held 
under  the  ancient  titles  when  the  only  record  was  made  in  some 
such  phrase  as  "  beginning  at  a  white  oak  by  two  sugar  trees  and 
a  poplar  on  the  upper  waters  of  ten  mile  creek,  thence  running 
north-easterly  1600  poles  to  a  red  oak,"  etc.  As  in  many  cases 
it  had  been  two  or  three  score  years  since  these  corners  were 
established,  the  axe-marks  in  the  "corner"  and  "witness"  trees 
were  often  extremely  obscure,  sometimes  completely  grown 
over;  not  infrequently  one  or  more  of  the  trees  had  fallen  and 
gone  to  decay.  On  one  occasion  a  land  suit  turned  on  the  ques- 
tion of  establishing  a  corner  marked  more  than  seventy  years 
before.  The  only  person  who  had  ever  seen  it  was  a  man  nearly 
ninety  years  of  age,  who  had  been  with  the  surveying  party  that 
first  "ran  out"  the  trail.  In  his  dotage,  the  old  fellow  had  only 
now  and  then  command  of  his  wits ;  but  by  staying  with  us  for 
a  fortnight  while  we  rode  through  the  woods,  he  slowly  recov- 
ered his  memory  of  the  place  and  finally  selected  a  tree  as  most 
likely  the  one  we  sought.  The  surface  showed  nothing  that  could 
be  identified  as  an  axe-mark;  but  by  carefully  scraping  the  bark 
and  wood  away  we  came  upon  ancient  buried  scars,  which  were 
evidently  made  by  a  tomahawk,  such  as  the  surveyors  of  the 
eighteenth  century  used ;  so  the  title  was  established.  This  case 
of  slowly  recovered  memory  interested  me  much  and  aroused  in 
me  a  sense  of  the  mystery  of  mind  that  has  not  passed  away. 
I  regard  these  experiences  with  a  people  of  another  age  and 


68     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

quality  as  among  the  most  enlarging  that  came  to  me  in  my 
youth. 

In  1854,  when  a  lad  of  thirteen,  I  made  with  my  father  a 
journey  to  Massachusetts  and  Long  Island,  —  by  railway  to 
Cleveland,  thence  by  steamer  to  Buffalo,  and  then  on  again  by 
railway.  To  this  day  the  sense  of  the  breadth  of  the  world  which 
came  with  this  seeing  stays  with  me.  Vast  indeed  was  the 
impression  afforded  by  the  sky-line  of  water  on  Lake  Erie.  I 
knew  that  the  northern  shore  lay  not  far  beyond  sight,  yet  the 
oceanic  effect,  the  greatest  the  world  has  to  give  those  who  are 
from  the  depths  of  the  land,  entered  my  soul;  no  others  of  the 
manifold  impressions  I  have  had  from  the  seas  have  been  thus 
lasting.  I  must  have  been  in  a  vivid  state  on  this  journey,  for  all 
the  impressions  of  it  remain  startlingly  clear.  The  wide  stretches 
of  the  landscape  and  the  peculiar  waltzing  effect  which  rapid 
motion  gives  to  its  features ;  above  all,  the  sight  of  the  first  con- 
siderable hills,  the  glimpse  of  the  far-off  Catskills,  and  then  the 
sight  of  Greylock  as  we  neared  Pittsfield,  stay  printed  on  my 
mind.  Most  interesting  was  the  curiously  strong  sense  that  the 
land  was  not  like  what  I  had  before  known.  This  impression 
recurred  every  time  I  returned  in  after  years  to  Massachusetts, 
though  it  was  not  long  before  I  came  to  perceive  that  the  mean- 
ing of  this  strangeness  was  that  the  surface  of  the  ground  in  this 
part  of  the  world  had  been  shaped  by  glacial  action,  while  the 
fields  of  my  youth  bore  the  stamp  of  free  water. 

Our  first  stopping-place  was  Lancaster,  Massachusetts.  Of 
my  experience  there  at  the  home  of  my  great-aunt  Abigail 
Stilwell  I  have  already  told.  Thence  we  went  to  Boston,  where 
my  father  had  many  college  friends,  who  thronged  about  him; 
he  was  evidently  dear  to  them.  Now  for  the  first  time  I  saw 
that  the  man  of  forty  years  had  been  a  boy.  For  the  first  time 
in  my  life  I  heard  him  called  by  his  given  name,  for  my  mother 
always  addressed  him  as  "  Doctor."  My  surprise,  mingled  with 
a  certain  indignation  at  the  freedom  of  these  schoolmates  with 
my  father,  shows  clearly  that  he  was  a  strangely  withdrawn  man. 


NATHANIEL   BURGER  SHALER 


A  VISIT  TO  MASSACHUSETTS  69 

Among  these  old  familiars  of  my  father  were  men  who  as 
persons  interested  me  much.  There  was  Cornelius  C.  Felton, 
professor  of  Greek  in  Harvard  College,  and  afterwards  its  presi- 
dent, a  large  and  large-hearted  man;  Horatio  Greenough,  who 
also  dwelt  in  Cambridge;  Epes  Sargent  Dixwell,  a  schoolmaster 
of  renown ;  Charles  T.  Jackson,  the  chemist  and  geologist,  and 
many  others  with  whom  I  was  afterwards  to  have  relations. 
I  recall  in  Jackson's  house  how  he  told  my  father  the  story  of 
his  relations  to  the  discovering  of  ether  and  how  Morton  had 
cheated  him  out  of  his  fame,  and  how  he  wept  and  raved  in  the 
telling.  I  had  never  before  seen  a  man  thus  chagrined,  and 
wondered  greatly  why  he  should  be  so  about  such  a  trifle  — 
as  it  seemed  to  me  then  —  and  ever  since.  When  we  came  away, 
my  father  said  to  me  that  in  his  opinion  Jackson  had  been  the 
discoverer,  but  that  he  was  a  rather  timid  person  and  did  not 
venture  to  make  the  full  trial  of  the  agent  himself,  and  so  had 
turned  to  Morton  as  a  person  who  would  take  the  risk  of  the 
experiment. 

At  first  sight,  Harvard  College  greatly  interested  me.  It  was 
then  a  small  affair,  but  to  me,  who  had  never  seen  anything  of 
the  kind,  it  seemed  very  great.  From  it  I  had  the  first  sense  of 
historic  antiquity  as  it  is  embodied  in  edifices.  There  were  then 
only  what  are  now  termed  the  old  buildings  of  the  Yard  and  the 
Divinity  School  and  the  old  Medical  School  in  Boston. 

In  1857,  because  I  suffered  much  with  ague,  I  was  sent  for 
three  months  to  Sag  Harbor  on  Long  Island,  where  I  stayed 
with  a  sister  of  my  father's.  I  was  then  a  lanky  youth  of  a  soli- 
tary, phlegmatic  temper.  I  spent  my  time  tramping  the  woods 
and  keeping  company  with  the  sea.  I  had  no  congenial  society, 
save  that  of  certain  rough  sailors,  some  of  them  Lascars,  a 
distinctly  bad  lot,  but  they  interested  me  and  taught  me  a  bit 
of  sea  and  ship  lore  that  afterwards  I  had  a  chance  to  find*  serv- 
iceable. I  remember  best  a  sojourn  on  Montauk  Point,  then  a 
solitary  land  where  considerable  herds  of  cattle  wandered  over 
the  watery  open  country.  They  were  wild,  after  the  manner 


70     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

of  the  herds  on  the  plains  of  the  West,  and  would  crowd  about 
a  stray  huntsman.  On  one  occasion  while  I  was  hunting 
plover,  they  crowded  me  over  the  edge  of  the  sea  cliff,  till  I 
had  to  stop  them  with  bird-shot  from  my  fowling-piece  — 
not  in  rage  but  from  stupid  curiosity.  The  noble  solitude  of 
the  place  was  strangely  attractive  to  me;  there  I  first  came  to 
know  the  splendor  of  such  isolation. 

I  have  not  been  on  Montauk  since  that  visit  of  half  a  century 
ago.  I  have  kept  away  from  it  because  the  memory  is  so  rich 
and  full  that  I  have  feared  to  disturb  it  by  reseeing.  The  light- 
house, a  great  pond  with  an  ancient  house  where  I  lodged 
between  it  and  the  sea,  the  cry  of  the  plover,  the  air  from  the 
sea,  are  as  yesterday  in  memory;  above  all,  a  startling  feature 
when  by  chance  the  face  of  the  moon  rising  above  the  ocean 
was  crossed  by  a  ship,  so  far  away  that  for  a  moment  it  was 
framed  in  its  round.  It  was  here  that  the  sea  came  to  my  soul. 
Save  for  that  fortnight  at  Montauk,  which  did  much  for  me,  I 
have  no  pleasant  recollections  of  my  visit  to  Sag  Harbor.  I  did 
not  do  well  with  the  youth  of  the  place;  they  treated  me  ill  and 
did  not  take  the  consequences  in  good  part.  Among  the  older 
folk  were  some  who  were  broadened  by  wide  contact  with  the 
world.  I  saw  that  they  were  queer  figures;  they  treated  me 
kindly,  but  at  that  time  I  was  a  solitary  —  a  bit  misanthropic. 
The  fact  that  I  volunteered  to  serve  some  kind  of  a  visit  upon 
a  bully  who  had  threatened  dire  things  to  any  one  who  would 
beard  him  in  his  den,  —  a  lonely  farmhouse,  —  finding  him  at 
the  time  very  peaceable,  seemed  to  convince  the  older  folk  that 
I  was  in  some  way  dangerous;  only  with  the  sailors  of  the 
whaling  ships  did  I  find  men  after  my  mind. 


CHAPTER  V 

SOME   KENTUCKY   MAGNATES 

ANOTHER  set  of  chapters  of  my  life  were  my  visits  to  Frank- 
fort, the  capital  of  the  state,  where  I  had  friends  and  kindred 
and  whereto  I  resorted  during  the  sessions  of  the  Legislature, 
when  in  a  small  way  the  place  was  a  brilliant  centre  of  life,  of 
a  life  that  has  long  since  passed  away.  Thereto  came  for  a 
month  or  so  in  the  winter  some  hundred  people  of  local  distinc- 
tion, not  a  few  of  whom  had  made  or  were  to  make  their  marks 
in  a  wider  circle  of  affairs.  I  generally  lodged  with  an  old  kins- 
man, a  Mr.  Edmund  Taylor,  cashier  of  the  State  Bank,  in  those 
days  a  station  of  considerable  dignity.  At  that  time  it  was  a 
law  that  the  cashiers  of  such  banks  should  severally  dwell  in 
the  buildings  where  their  business  was  done.  This  was  with  the 
idea,  as  I  was  told,  that  the  domesticity  of  the  work  would  en- 
sure a  greater  measure  of  honesty  in  administration.  These  bank 
houses  were  solid,  spacious  mansions,  with  the  business  offices 
opening  into  the  family  quarters.  In  his  way,  the  cashier  who 
effectively  had  charge  of  the  business  was  a  magnate  and  a  con- 
siderable figure  in  his  little  world.  My  kinsman  was  in  years 
an  old  man  past  seventy  when  I  remember  him  clearly,  excel- 
lent in  his  business  duties,  but  very  merry,  greatly  addicted 
to  dancing.  I  have  seen  him  keep  it  up  until  dawn  of  a  winter 
night. 

The  amusements  of  the  people  who  congregated  in  Frank- 
fort were  dining,  dancing,  and  card-playing  for  both  sexes, 
getting  drunk  and  sober  for  a  large  part  of  the  young  men,  and 
a  most  endless  discussion  of  politics  by  all  the  assembled  mul- 
titude. It  was  a  life  of  the  ancient  Stuart  quality,  quite  unlike 
anything  I  have  found  elsewhere.  The  essence  of  it  was  an  ex- 
traordinary sense  of  the  value  of  the  individual  to  himself  and 


72     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

his  neighbor;  the  people  were  more  conscious  of  one  another 
and  of  themselves  than  it  seems  possible  for  them  to  be  now. 
In  many  ways,  the  relations  of  the  folk  were  socially  ideal;  I 
never  heard  of  any  shame  relating  to  any  women  of  the  assem- 
blage. With  a  certain  set  of  the  youths  it  was  the  thing  to  pose 
as  rakehells,  but  there  was  also  a  sober  set,  as  I  remember  the 
larger  part  of  the  men  old  and  young,  who  set  their  faces  against 
all  manner  of  filthiness.  Getting  drunk  was  not  thought  to  be 
distinctly  unmannerly,  but  the  tipsy  wight  was  led  aside  by  his 
friends  and  given  to  the  servants  for  safe-keeping.  I  have  seen 
as  many  as  a  dozen  of  them  thus  in  durance  at  a  single  ball. 
The  effect  of  this  habit  was  ruinous;  about  one  in  four  of  the 
young  men  I  knew  at  this  time  went  to  ruin  in  that  way. 

There  is  a  common  notion  that  the  men  of  the  South  were 
a  licentious  lot  and  that  their  relations  with  negro  women 
was  a  feature  of  that  time.  My  recollection  is  that  by  far  the 
larger  number  of  them  were  as  continent  as  are  men  to-day  in 
any  part  of  the  world  known  to  me;  that  something  like  four 
fifths,  perhaps  nine  tenths  of  them  were  wholesome,  essentially 
clean-minded  fellows,  who  had  no  habits  of  incontinence.  As 
for  intercourse  with  the  negro  women,  while  it  doubtless  oc- 
curred, I  can  say  I  never  knew  of  an  instance  of  it  in  those 
gatherings,  and  the  whole  of  the  life  was  so  largely  almost  in- 
credibly a  matter  of  general  knowledge  that  if  common  I  surely 
would  have  known  of  it.  In  my  observation  of  such  matters, 
I  know  of  but  three  instances  where  those  entitled  otherwise 
to  the  station  of  gentlemen  had  such  relations. 

As  for  card-playing  with  money,  it  was  a  very  common  habit, 
as  common  as  it  was  in  England  forty  years  ago  when  I  there 
played  whist  with  clergymen  of  the  Established  Church  for 
small  points,  so  that  if  lucky  you  might  win  ten  shillings  at  a 
sitting.  Playing  for  money  was  a  rather  common  vice,  espe- 
cially with  the  elderly  men.  One  of  them,  a  half  great-uncle 
on  my  mother's  side,  was  an  admirable  specimen  of  his  class; 
a  grave,  dignified  person  of  cultivated  manners  and  much  esprit, 


VISITS  TO  FRANKFORT  73 

who  would  have  perfectly  fitted  in  the  Bath  of  Brummel's  time. 
He  was  a  great  master  of  the  game  of  poker,  for  he  was  an 
uncommonly  good  judge  of  men,  the  highest  compliment  that 
was  bestowed  upon  a  man  in  those  days,  when  judging  men 
and  women  was  the  main  business  of  life.  This  ancient  worthy 
would  have  chastised  his  grand-nephew  if  he  had  found  him  in 
a  game  at  his  table. 

Though  I  have  been  much  thrown  with  gamblers,  those  of 
the  green  cloth  in  my  youth  and  those  of  the  stock  market  in 
later  years,  I  have  never  been  able  to  come  into  their  state  of 
mind.  Even  as  a  youth  I  had  no  fancy  for  the  business,  though 
I  liked  the  American  game  of  poker  for  the  play  of  wits,  and 
had  some  profit  from  that  side  of  the  experience.  I  particu- 
larly liked  to  watch  skilful  players  when  the  stakes  were  high 
to  see  the  human  motive  of  the  performance ;  there  is  no  other 
game,  save  that  of  war,  where  there  is  so  good  an  opportunity 
to  see  how  minds  work. 

I  count  my  visits  to  Frankfort  as  in  a  high  measure  educa- 
tive. At  home  I  had  few  associates  of  my  own  age  who  were 
in  any  way  interested  in  matters  which  interested  me.  In  the 
gatherings  at  the  capital  I  found  several  youths  of  the  Eugenia 
who  were  facing  the  same  problems  that  I  envisaged ;  who  were 
setting  themselves  largely  against  life.  Three  of  these  young 
men  were  my  kinsmen,  of  remote  degree  but  near  enough  to 
make  a  bond  between  us.  Two  of  them  went  down  in  the  Civil 
War,  and  one,  Sanford,  was  assassinated  by  Goebel,  who  after- 
ward met  like  end  on  his  way  to  his  place  as  governor  of  the 
commonwealth.  Now  and  then  came  to  Frankfort  some  of  the 
older  men  who  had  won  distinguished  place  in  public  affairs  — 
John  C.  Breckenridge,  then  Vice-President  of  the  United  States ; 
Crittenden,  of  the  famous  attempted  compromise;  Elder  Breck- 
enridge, then  the  head  of  that  house  of  strong  men ;  and  many 
others  of  less  note.  In  those  days  it  was  easy  for  a  lad  just  near- 
ing  to  man's  estate  to  know  his  elders.  They  were  on  the  watch 
for  such  as  might  serve  them;  moreover,  in  my  case,  they  all 


74     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

had  known  my  uncle  William  Southgate  and  had  loved  him 
dearly.  I  evidently  had  a  great  physical  resemblance  to  him, 
though  he  was  a  small  man,  and  at  seventeen  I  was  near  six 
feet  high.  Countrymen  would  often  accost  me  with  the  ques- 
tion, "Ain't  you  some  kin  to  little  Billy?"  In  this  way  my  en- 
trance among  the  leaders  of  that  time  was  made  easy. 

Above  the  town  of  Frankfort,  on  the  top  of  the  steep  bluff 
of  the  Kentucky  River,  is  a  burial-place  where  lie  the  bones  of 
many  heroes,  sons  the  Commonwealth  has  lovingly  gathered 
in  one  fold.  It  is  a  beautiful  site  for  this  simple  Valhalla,  with 
its  wide  outlook  over  the  noble  vale  it  crowns,  to  my  eyes  won- 
drously  enriched  by  the  sense  of  a  people's  care  for  the  fame 
of  its  illustrious  dead.  Thereto  was  the  usual  walk  of  young 
and  old,  to  take  the  sunset  and  whatever  else  came  to  them 
there.  A  wider  outlook  on  varied  temples  of  fame  in  Europe 
and  elsewhere  has  not  diminished  my  feeling  for  that  simple 
place  of  graves.  Even  now  it  makes  in  me  a  larger  impression 
than  the  cloistered  dust  of  Westminster  Abbey  or  the  rows  of 
busts  on  the  Pincian  Hill ;  hiost  likely  because  of  its  simplicity, 
and  the  contrast  between  it  and  the  very  commonplace  scenes 
about  it. 

In  Frankfort  I  met  many  of  those  who  had  played  their  little 
parts  as  soldiers  in  Mexico  and  soon  were  to  show  themselves 
in  larger  action  on  the  wider  fields  of  the  Civil  War,  as  well  as 
many  near  my  own  age  who  were  to  find  a  soldier's  place,  and 
the  most  of  them  their  graves  in  that  same  deadly  struggle.  I 
recall  John  Hunt  Morgan,  then  judged  a  man  of  small  parts, 
who  as  a  subaltern  had  done  nothing  at  all  distinguished  in 
Mexico,  but  who  was  to  win  fame  as  a  Confederate  commander 
which  would  rank  him  with  Wheeler  and  Stuart.  This  man, 
who  became  the  type  of  a  daring  raider,  seemed  to  me  a  com- 
monplace person.  He  held  a  "poker  hand"  timidly,  playing 
for  certainties,  and  with  little  of  that  "knowledge  of  men" 
which  was  then  and  there  held  to  be  the  sum  of  wits.  There 
were  the  Marshalls,  —  Thomas,  Humphrey,  and  John,  —  three 


THE  BETTER  PEOPLE  OF  KENTUCKY    75 

very  able  men,  who  gave  no  fit  account  of  themselves  to  their 
generation.  Of  the  first  of  these  I  have  a  separate  story  to  tell, 
for  he  has  a  special  interest  to  me;  they  were  all  kinsmen  of  the 
great  John  Marshall.  There  are  a  score  more  of  strong  men  who 
knew  their  strength  and  helped  me  to  the  station  of  manhood, 
though  few  of  them  helped  themselves  to  their  fit  place  in  the 
world. 

The  impression  made  on  me  by  the  better  people  of  Ken- 
tucky, as  I  saw  them  in  the  gatherings  at  Frankfort,  an  im- 
pression not  lessened  by  later  and  wide  intercourse  with  men, 
such  as  came  soon  thereafter,  was  that  there  was  a  singular 
development  of  power,  one  of  those  great  openings  of  thought 
that  is  now  and  then,  though  rarely,  offered  to  the  world,  — 
in  this  case  vainly.  I  am  quite  sure  that  this  judgment  is 
not  colored  by  the  enthusiasm  or  the  ignorance  of  youth;  for 
before  my  contact  with  these  people  was  ended,  I  had  been  for 
a  year  or  two  a  student  in  Harvard,  associated  with  a  very 
selected  group  of  youths  and  mature  men.  Moreover,  in  that 
day  even  more  than  in  this  fifty  years  later,  I  was  given  to 
critical  observation  of  the  ways  and  nature  of  men.  I  question 
if  in  the  history  of  our  race  there  was  ever  a  better  presenta- 
tion of  varied  power  than  in  the  generation  that  was  matured 
and  maturing  at  the  outset  of  the  Civil  War  in  Kentucky. 
There  were  reasons  why  there  should  have  been  such  devel- 
opment and  why  it  should  have  come  to  naught,  leaving  the 
people  on  a  lower  plane  than  they  have  been  since  the  founda- 
tion of  this  commonwealth.  To  see  the  meaning  of  this  inter- 
esting social  history,  we  must  first  note  that  the  population  of 
Kentucky,  or  at  least  of  the  central  district  which  has  given 
character  to  its  society,  was  made  up,  in  a  measure  not  ex- 
hibited by  the  other  secondary  settlements  of  this  country, 
of  folk  selected  by  circumstances  for  their  vigor  and  capacity. 
So  far  as  the  whites  were  concerned,  it  may  be  doubted  whether 
any  plantation  of  men  of  a  greater  average  of  physical  and 
mental  vigor  has  been  established  in  this  country.  This  is  shown 


76      NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

by  what  is  of  record  concerning  the  origin  of  the  colonists,  and 
is  well  attested  by  the  history  of  the  people  in  the  first  two 
generations  of  their  life  in  this  new  field.  By  the  middle  of  the 
last  century,  the  trials  of  those  who  found  a  state  in  the  wilder- 
ness were  well  by,  the  settlers  were  prosperous,  the  burthen  of 
life  was  light,  the  climate  admirable,  so  that  they  were  ideally 
placed  for  further  and  high  development  in  the  intellectual 
field.  Just  such  a  flowering  of  strength  and  capacity  as  I  saw 
in  my  youth  was  the  natural,  we  may  say  the  inevitable,  out- 
come of  such  a  history. 

The  failure  of  the  Kentucky  people  to  make  good  their  pro- 
mise; the  fact  that  the  youths  of  my  time  whom  I  judged  to 
be  my  betters  have  left  no  sign,  is  in  my  opinion  to  be  accounted 
for  by  a  peculiar  combination  of  circumstances,  of  which  the 
Civil  War  was  the  most  potent.  In  that  trial  a  large  part  of 
the  best  of  the  youth  perished,  leaving  no  succession.  There 
are  no  trustworthy  statistics  to  show  the  numbers  who  owed 
their  death  or  permanent  invalidation  to  military  service,  but 
the  total  probably  amounted  to  not  less  than  twenty  thousand. 
The  whole  number  of  men  who  stood  in  arms  on  the  two  sides 
was  about  one  hundred  and  thirty-five  thousand,  and  of  these 
it  is  likely  that  at  least  one  sixth  were  taken  from  the  support 
of  their  society  which  then  had  a  population  of  less  than  a 
million  people.  This  sacrifice  was  in  peculiarly  large  measure 
from  the  intellectual,  the  state-shaping  class.  In  far  larger 
proportion  than  the  Northern  states,  this  class  contributed 
men  to  the  armies,  and  the  percentage  of  deaths  of  these 
natural  leaders  was  very  high.  As  I  look  back  I  count  thirty 
lads  and  young  men  of  this  group  whom  I  knew  who  thus  passed 
before  they  came  to  their  best  years  and  left  no  children.  More 
than  half  the  expectancy  of  the  state  that  I  knew  was  thus 
swept  away. 

Not  only  did  the  Civil  War  maim  the  generation  of  Ken- 
tuckians  to  which  I  belonged,  it  also  broke  up  the  develop- 
ing motives  of  intellectual  culture  of  the  commonwealth.  Just 


DEBASING  INFLUENCE  OF  THE  WAR          77 

before  it  I  can  see  that  while  the  ideals  of  culture  were  in  a  way 
still  low  and  rather  carnal,  there  was  an  eager  reaching-out 
for  better  things;  men  and  women  were  seeking,  through  his- 
tory, literature,  the  fine  arts,  and  in  some  measure  through 
science,  for  a  share  in  the  higher  life.  Four  years  of  civil  war, 
which  turned  the  minds  of  all  towards  what  is  at  once  the  most 
absorbing  and  debasing  interest  of  man,  made  an  end  of  this 
and  set  the  people  on  a  moral  and  intellectual  plane  lower  than 
that  they  occupied  when  they  were  warring  with  the  wilder- 
ness and  the  savages.  War  is  always  degrading  to  the  states 
that  urge  it,  but  it  is  most  so  when  it  is  between  brothers  and 
hearthstones;  therefore  the  tide  which  was  setting  towards 
the  better  life  was  stayed ;  the  thoughts  of  men  turned  back 
towards  the  primitive.  Many  of  those  who  might  have  led  were 
slain;  others  sought  homes  elsewhere  —  for  a  society  thus 
racked  by  civil  war  is  no  place  for  a  man  who  seeks  to  make 
a  career.  In  1855  there  were  few  communities  holding  more 
of  promise  for  our  race  than  that  of  the  new  commonwealth; 
in  1865  few  that  were  less  hopeful. 

I  have  referred  above  to  Thomas  F.  Marshall,  a  man  of  sin- 
gular attractiveness  and  talents  with  whom  I  had  a  curious  re- 
lation. I  first  met  him  when  I  was  about  fourteen  years  of  age, 
when  he,  for  some  time  a  congressman,  had  through  drunken- 
ness fallen  into  a  curious  half -abandoned  mode  of  life.  He  was 
then  an  oldish  fellow,  but  retained  much  of  his  youthful  splen- 
dor. He  was  about  six  feet  three  inches  high,  but  so  well  built 
that  he  did  not  seem  large,  until  you  stood  beside  him.  His 
face,  even  when  marred  by  drink,  had  something  of  majesty  in 
it.  Marshall,  when  I  knew  him,  picked  up  a  scanty  living  as  a 
lecturer.  When  sober,  which  he  often  was  for  months  at  a  time, 
his  favorite  subject  was  temperance.  On  this  theme  he  was  as 
eloquent  as  Gough ;  in  his  season  of  spree,  he  turned  to  history. 
The  gradations  were  not  sharp,  for  he  would,  as  I  have  seen 
him,  preach  most  admirably  of  the  evil  of  drink  while  he  sup- 
ported himself  in  his  fervent  oratory  with  whiskey  from  a  silver 


78     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

mug.  In  matters  of  history,  he  had  read  widely.  One  of  his 
favorite  themes  was  the  mediaeval  history  of  Italy.  I  recall 
with  a  distinctness  which  shows  the  impressiveness  of  his  dis- 
courses his  story  of  Florence,  so  well  told  that  ten  years  after, 
when  I  saw  the  town  for  the  first  time,  the  shape  of  it  and  of 
the  neighboring  places  was  curiously  familiar.  Along  with  some 
other  youths,  I  noted  down  the  dates  of  events  as  he  gave  them 
and  looked  them  up.  We  never  caught  him  in  an  error,  though 
at  times  he  was  so  drunk  that  he  could  hardly  stand  up.  I  have 
known  many  historians  who  doubtless  much  exceeded  him  in 
learning,  but  never  another  who  seemed  to  have  such  a  capacity 
for  living  in  the  events  he  narrated. 

I  had  no  sooner  met "  Tom"  Marshall  than  we  became  friends. 
He  at  once  took  a  curious  fancy  to  me,  talked  to  me  as  though 
we  were  of  an  age,  and  gave  me  my  first  chance  of  such  contact 
with  a  man  of  learning  and  imagination.  The  relation,  while 
on  one  side  largely  profitable  to  me,  became  embarrassing,  for 
the  unhappy  man  got  the  notion  that  I  could  stop  his  drinking 
if  I  would  stay  with  him.  A  number  of  times  when  he  had  his 
dipsomaniac  fury  upon  him  I  found  that  by  sitting  by  his  bed 
and  talking  with  him  on  some  historical  subject,  or  rather  lis- 
tening to  his  talk,  he  would  apparently  forget  about  his  drink 
and  in  a  few  hours  drop  asleep  and  awake  to  be  sober  for  some 
months. 

Sometimes  these  quiet  interviews  were  most  interesting 
to  me.  I  recall  one  of  them  when  I  found  him  in  an  attack 
of  half  delirium.  His  memory,  always  active,  took  him  back  to 
the  days  when  he  was  in  Congress  and  to  a  scene  when  he, 
a  very  young  member  of  the  House,  had  been  chosen  by  some 
careful  elders  to  lead  an  attack  on  John  Quincy  Adams.  They, 
the  elders,  were  to  come  to  his  support  when  he  had  drawn 
the  enemy's  fire.  It  all  became  so  real  to  him,  that  he  sprang 
out  of  bed  and  in  his  tattered  nightgown  gave,  first  his  own 
speech  with  all  the  action  of  a  young  orator,  and  then  the  de- 
liberate, crushing  rejoinder  of  his  mighty  antagonist.  At  the 


THOMAS  F.  MARSHALL  79 

end  of  it  he  fell  back  upon  his  bed,  cursing  the  villains  who  led 
him  into  the  fight  and  left  him  to  take  the  consequences. 

My  relations  with  Marshall  continued  until  I  went  to  Cam- 
bridge, but  my  influence  over  his  drinking  gradually  lessened 
as  he  sank  lower,  and  his  able  mind  began  to  be  permanently 
clouded.  When  I  had  been  some  months  at  college,  I  espied 
the  poor  fellow  in  the  street,  carpet-bag  in  hand,  evidently 
making  for  my  quarters.  I  sent  word  by  a  messenger  to  my 
chum,  Hyatt,  to  receive  and  care  for  him,  but  to  say  that  I  had 
left  town,  which  was  true,  for  I  went  at  once  to  Greenfield, 
where  I  had  friends.  Hyatt  was  also  to  provide  the  wanderer 
with  a  suit  of  clothes  and  a  railway  ticket  back  to  Kentucky. 
I  stayed  away  until  I  learned  that  Marshall  was  on  his  way 
home.  I  have  always  been  ashamed  of  my  conduct  in  this  mat- 
ter, but  the  unhappy  man  was  at  that  time  of  his  degradation 
an  impossible  burthen  for  me  to  carry;  once  ensconced  in  my 
quarters  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  provide  him  with  a 
dignified  exit,  and  there  was  no  longer  hope  that  I  might  re- 
form him.  Yet  the  cowardice  of  the  action  has  grieved  me  to 
this  day. 

Two  years  afterwards,  in  1862,  I  saw  Marshall  for  the  last 
time.  I  was  with  a  column  of  troops  going  through  the  town 
of  Versailles,  Kentucky.  He  was  seated  in  front  of  a  bar-room, 
with  his  chin  upon  the  top  of  his  cane.  He  was  so  far  gone  that 
the  sight  merely  troubled  his  wits  without  affording  him  any 
explanation  of  what  it  meant.  His  bleared  though  still  noble 
face  stays  in  my  memories  as  one  of  the  saddest  of  those  weary 
years. 

Among  the  interesting  and  in  a  way  shaping  incidents  of  my 
boyhood,  was  a  brief  contact  with  Abraham  Lincoln  about 
1856.  He  was  coming  on  foot  from  the  town  of  Covington ;  I 
was  on  horseback,  and  met  him  near  the  bridge  over  the  Lick- 
ing River.  He  asked  the  way  to  my  grandfather's  house,  which 
was  about  a  mile  off.  Attracted  by  his  appearance,  I  dismounted 
and  asked  him  to  get  on  my  horse,  which  he  declined  to  do;  so 


80     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

I  walked  beside  him.  Probably  because  he  knew  how  to  talk 
to  a  lad  —  few  know  the  art,  and  those  the  large  natures  alone 
—  we  became  at  once  friendly.  When  I  had  shown  him  into 
the  house,  I  hung  about  to  find  his  name.  As  I  had  never  heard 
of  Mr.  Lincoln  of  Illinois,  it  was  explained  to  me  that  he  was 
the  man  who  was  "running  against"  the  Little  Giant.  We  lads 
all  knew  Stephen  A.  Douglas,  who  was  so  popular  that  farm 
tools  were  named  for  him :  the  Little  Giant  this  and  that  of  corn- 
shellers  or  ploughs.  While  Mr.  Lincoln  was  with  my  grand- 
father, my  mother  dined  or  supped  with  him.  When  she  came 
home  she  said :  "  I  have  had  a  long  talk  with  Mr.  Lincoln,  who 
is  called  an  Abolitionist ;  if  he  is  an  Abolitionist,  I  am  an  Abo- 
litionist." I  well  remember  the  horror  with  which  this  remark 
inspired  the  household :  if  my  mother  had  said  she  was  Satan, 
it  could  not  have  been  worse.  The  droll  part  of  the  matter  is 
that  all  the  reasonable  people  about  me  were  in  heart  haters 
of  slavery.  They  saw  and  deplored  its  evils,  and  were  full  of 
fanciful  schemes  for  making  an  end  of  it.  But  the  name  Abo- 
litionist was  abominated. 

I  never  knew  what  brought  Mr.  Lincoln  to  my  grandfather's 
house.  It  is  likely  that  he  came  because  a  certain  doctor  of 
central  Kentucky,  an  uncle  of  Mr.  Lincoln,  a  widower,  had  re- 
cently married  an  aunt  of  mine,  a  widow.  This  union  of  two 
middle-aged  people,  each  with  large  families,  brought  trouble; 
since  family  traditions  were  against  divorce,  a  separation  was 
effected  which  had  an  amusing  though  tragic  finish.  When  all 
other  matters  of  property  had  been  arranged  and  P.  had  be- 
taken himself  to  his  plantation  in  Mississippi,  as  an  afterthought 
he  set  up  a  supplementary  claim  to  a  saddle  mule  belonging  to 
my  aunt  which  he  had  forgotten  to  demand  in  the  settlement. 
This  re-opened  the  question,  and  it  was  determined  in  family 
council  that  the  grasping  doctor  should  not  be  satisfied.  We 
boys  had  the  notion  that  Mr.  Lincoln's  visit  related  to  this 
episode  of  the  mule,  for  shortly  after  the  "critter"  was  sent 
with  a  servant  by  steamboat,  to  be  delivered  to  the  claimant 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN  81 

at  the  landing  of  his  plantation  on  the  Mississippi  River.  In 
due  time  the  negro  returned  and  made  report :  it  was  that  the 
unworthy  suitor  came  with  a  group  of  his  friends  to  witness 
his  success,  mounted,  and  started  to  ride  away,  but  the  beast, 
frisky  from  its  long  confinement,  "stooped  up  behind,"  as  the 
darkeys  phrase  it,  and  threw  his  master  and  killed  him.  Whether 
Lincoln  had  a  hand  in  the  negotiations  which  led  to  this  finish 
or  not,  I  am  sure  that  the  humor  of  it  must  have  tickled  him. 


CHAPTER  VI 

POLITICAL    CLOUDS    GATHER 

BEFORE  taking  up  the  story  of  my  life  as  a  student  at  Harvard, 
it  is  well  to  round  out  the  necessarily  rambling  account  of  my 
boyhood  life  by  telling  something  of  the  political  life  of  the 
years  immediately  preceding  the  Civil  War,  especially  of  the  end- 
less discussions  concerning  the  slavery  question  and  the  place 
of  Kentucky  in  the  war  between  North  and  South  which  all 
sagacious  persons  foresaw.  From  the  time  I  was  twelve  years 
old,  my  grandfather  in  his  Sunday  afternoon  lessons  used  often 
to  say  to  me :  "  My  lad,  when  this  comes,  you  belong  on  the  side 
of  the  Union."  He,  as  others,  knew  the  issue  to  be  inevitable, 
and  his  exhortation  did  much  to  determine  my  eventual  state 
of  mind.  He,  too,  was  an  Abolitionist,  though  he  shaped  the 
purpose  on  the  lines  of  the  Liberian  colonization  project,  on 
which  he  abundantly  discoursed  to  me. 

In  my  boyhood,  say  from  1855  on,  the  idea  of  secession  be- 
gan to  be  discussed.  It  had  but  few  advocates  among  the  noted 
men,  who  were  generally  Henry  Clay  Whigs,  with  nothing  but 
denunciation  for  Calhoun  and  all  his  works.  I  recall  being  held 
in  my  father's  arms  when  I  was  perhaps  eight  years  old  to 
hear  Clay  make  a  short  but  impassioned  speech.  I  cannot  re- 
member anything  about  it,  but  I  can  see  that  eager  face  and 
swaying  body,  and  hear  the  cheers  of  his  audience.  In  this 
period,  from  1850  onward,  the  irritation  between  the  slave- 
holding  and  the  non-slaveholding  sections  became  steadily  more 
and  more  intense.  Now  and  then  negroes  ran  away.  About 
1857,  those  belonging  to  my  grandfather,  my  aunts,  and  my 
mother,  all  household  servants,  some  of  them  old  people,  de- 
camped in  one  night.  I  remember  the  excitement  when  at 
dawn  a  certain  Sam  Morton,  who  had  also  suffered  from  the 


"LIVING  WITHIN  YOURSELF"  83 

exodus,  roused  the  families.  My  grandfather  at  once  ordered 
that  they  should  not  be  pursued.  In  the  course  of  three 
months  there  came  a  letter  from  the  party,  then  in  Canada, 
begging  that  they  be  allowed  to  return.  This  he  refused  to 
grant,  saying  that  they  had  broken  the  bond  that  bound  him 
to  look  after  them,  and  that  he  would  have  nothing  further  to 
do  with  them.  By  threatening  to  "  sell  them  South,"  the  ancient 
threat  which  he  never  would  have  executed,  he  kept  them  from 
returning.  This  was  one  of  several  sudden  migrations  from  my 
part  of  the  country  which  were  laid  to  the  charge  of  "  Under- 
ground Railroad"  people,  and  served  to  increase  that  irrita- 
tion of  the  folk,  which  was  furthered  by  the  failure  of  sundry 
efforts  to  have  fugitive  slaves  returned  by  law. 

It  was  the  custom  of  the  large  householders  in  the  early  days 
of  Kentucky  to  provide  so  far  as  possible  for  their  needs  by 
domestic  work.  This  plan  of  "  living  within  yourself,"  as  it  was 
called,  was  retained  and  carried  very  far  by  my  grandfather, 
so  that  very  little  money  was  spent  for  any  provisions.  Flour, 
rice,  soap,  candles,  most  kinds  of  meat  and  all  vegetables  were 
prepared  in  the  house  or  sent  in  from  the  farms;  so,  too,  the 
cloth  of  various  kinds,  coarse  cotton  and  linen,  the  woollen 
goods  known  as  jeans  for  every-day  wear.  My  grandfather 
even  went  so  far  as  to  undertake  the  manufacture  of  silk,  hav- 
ing brought  in  an  Italian  family  for  that  purpose.  At  that  time 
some  silkworms  were  grown  in  the  neighborhood  and  the  co- 
coons were  reeled,  spun,  and  woven  in  a  little  factory.  This 
work  was  maintained  up  to  about  the  time  of  his  death  with 
such  success  that  the  women  of  the  family  rejoiced  in  an  abun- 
dance of  excellent  black  silk.  So  good  was  it,  indeed,  that  it 
took  the  premium  in  the  so-called  World's  Fair  held  in  New 
York  about  1854.  I  recall  my  sense  of  importance  when  first 
clad  in  a  suit  of  silk  from  "the  factory."  All  the  domestic  arts 
attracted  me  much,  especially  the  dipping  of  the  candles,  where 
the  wicks  were  set  in  a  frame  so  that  they  were  alternately  low- 
ered into  the  hot  tallow  and  lifted  up  to  cool.  The  growth  of 


84     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

the  candles  was  a  matter  of  wonderment,  for  the  heated  fat 
is  nearly  colorless  while  the  candles  are  white.  The  reeling  of 
the  silk  and  the  wonder  of  the  grub  inside  concerned  me  most. 
I  was  allowed  to  see  the  living  grubs  feeding  on  mulberry  leaves 
and  spinning  their  cocoons  and  thereby  came  to  know  the 
stages  of  the  creature's  life  up  to  the  chrysalis.  Oddly  enough, 
for  I  was  a  prying  lad  and  about  eight  years  old,  I  had  not 
noticed  these  changes  among  the  wild  insects.  My  infantile 
military  mania  must  have  closed  my  eyes  as  it  shuts  those  of 
grown  men. 

From  the  many  sturdy  old  men  who  were  about  me  in  my 
youth,  I  had  many  stories  of  the  pioneer  stages  of  the  settle- 
ments of  northern  Kentucky  and  the  neighboring  parts  of 
Ohio.  These  tales  are  all  too  dim  for  re-telling,  but  the  quality 
of  these  brave  old  fellows  stays  with  me.  As  is  usually  the  case 
with  the  really  valiant,  they  were  very  gentle.  There  was  in 
them  not  a  trace  of  the  roistering  cowboy  who  masquerades  as 
"a  terror/'  but  is  cowed  by  the  silent,  woman-faced  "real 
thing."  Of  this  group  I  remember  best  a  certain  Richard 
Taliaferro,  a  remote  kinsman,  a  very  gentle  giant,  who  as  a  lad 
of  fifteen  had  captained  a  party  of  women,  children,  and  some 
slaves  from  eastern  Virginia  to  their  destination  on  the  Ken- 
tucky shore  just  above  Cincinnati.  They  travelled  by  horse  and 
wagon  to  the  Monongahela  River  and  then  built  a  broadhorn 
on  which  they  floated  down  the  Ohio,  seeking  for  the  sign  of 
their  landing-place,  a  white  flag  on  a  tree-top.  They  found  it, 
and  established  near  by  the  home  of  his  long  life.  When  I 
last  saw  him  about  1888,  he  showed  me  over  the  place.  Of 
his  house,  which  he  dearly  loved,  he  said,  "Here  were  raised 
eighteen  children  and  there  never  was  a  quarrel  among  them." 
He  was  himself  the  embodiment  of  peace. 

At  this  stage  of  the  trouble  between  North  and  South,  "  Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin"  appeared.  I  well  remember  the  excitement  it 
created  among  my  own  people;  the  irritation  was  the  greater 
because  it  was  believed  that  Mrs.  Stowe,  who  lived  for  a  time 


ABOLITIONISTS  IN  KENTUCKY  85 

in  Cincinnati,  had  drawn  her  characters  from  people  in  some 
way  known  to  her  who  dwelt  on  my  side  of  the  river.  It  was 
believed  that  her  picture  of  St.  Clare,  the  gentle  slaveholder, 
was  drawn  from  my  grandfather,  while  Legree  was  sketched 
from  a  neighbor  whose  character  and  history  fitted  well  to  that 
villain.  The  incident  of  Eliza's  flight  across  the  river  over  the 
fields  of  floating  ice  probably  came  from  a  tradition  which  was 
current  as  far  back  as  I  remember,  certainly  as  early  as  1847. 
In  place  of  accepting  these  literary  coincidences  as  a  compli- 
ment, they  were  taken  in  high  dudgeon.  In  that  remote  age 
there  had  been  little  experience  with  newspaper  reporters,  and 
while  not  much  was  private,  it  was  esteemed  a  gross  offence 
to  put  a  man  in  print  in  that  fashion. 

At  this  time  there  were  some  indigenous  Abolitionists,  of 
whom  Cassius  M.  Clay  was  the  most  conspicuous,  but  because 
they  were  natives  of  the  state  they  were  tolerated.  Clay  was, 
indeed,  regarded  as  amusing.  He  was  known  as  a  furious  per- 
son, a  very  fire-eater  and  no  mean  orator;  it  was  therefore  the 
private  sport  of  the  young  men  to  send  him  a  letter  with  many 
signatures  stating  that  he  would  be  killed  if  he  ventured  to 
preach  his  vile  doctrine  in  their  country.  The  expected  result 
was  that  he  would  shortly  enter  the  forbidden  ground,  seize  the 
Court-House  and,  laying  his  pistols  on  the  judge's  desk,  pro- 
ceed with  his  furious  harangue;  thus  affording  an  occasion  for 
what  the  boys  called  a  circus.  So  far  as  I  knew,  he  was  never 
harmed  or  even  insulted  on  these  excursions;  he  was  taken  as 
a  joke.  It  is  true  that  his  press  in  Lexington  was  destroyed. 
All  the  serious  people  respected  the  man's  courage  and  his  will- 
ingness to  stand  by  his  principles.  It  was  otherwise  with  Abo- 
litionists who  came  into  the  state.  One  such,  a  man  named 
Bailey,  undertook  to  run  an  Abolitionist  paper  in  Newport. 
He  was  said  to  be  from  New  England  and  he  had  the  shape  of 
the  Yankee  of  caricature.  His  press  was  looted  by  a  mob  of 
young  men,  and  he  was  compelled  to  leave  the  state. 

Gradually  the  friction  concerning  slavery  bred  up  a  strong 


86     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

party  in  favor  of  that  institution.  At  first  this  group  was  in- 
significant; from  what  I  remember,  and  what  I  have  learned 
from  the  people  of  the  generation  before  me,  not  one  in  ten  of 
the  men  of  Kentucky  would  have  sided  with  South  Carolina 
if  the  nullification  doctrine  had  led  to  war;  I  very  much  doubt 
if  five  per  cent  of  the  voters  in  1850  would  have  favored  seces- 
sion. It  was  the  misfortune  of  the  Civil  War  period  that  the 
preliminary  stage  of  the  combat  lasted  so  long  that  there  was 
a  chance  for  the  amazing  hatred  of  the  Abolitionists  to  develop. 
It  knit  the  slaveholding  states  together,  gradually  breaking 
up  the  Emancipation  Party,  which  up  to  about  1840  appeared 
to  make  steady  growth  in  all  the  Border  States.  This  new 
opinion  came  by  the  gathering  of  the  young  men  about  certain 
leaders  of  distinction,  themselves  youthful.  John  C.  Brecken- 
ridge  was  the  strongest  of  these  strong  men  who  adopted  the 
"States'-Rights"  view  of  the  federal  relation.  They  were  not 
numerous,  but  they  were  able  and  their  arguments  strong.  It 
was  this  theory  of  government,  rather  than  any  affection  for 
slavery  or  sympathy  with  the  plantation  states,  which  led  a 
large  part  of  the  people  to  become  what  was  then  called 
Southern  sympathizers.  In  a  way,  it  was  a  recrudescence  of 
the  old  motive  of  independence  which  had  led  to  the  Kentucky 
Resolutions  of  1798,  a  state  of  mind  which  had  been  to  all 
appearance  long  dead. 

I  can  just  recall  the  excitement  of  the  controversy  as  to  the 
place  of  Kentucky  in  the  struggle  which  was  assumed  to  be 
inevitable  in  1857.  At  that  time  I  became  a  member  of  a  de- 
bating society  where  the  most  of  the  members  were  lads  of  about 
my  age,  but  older  than  the  most  I  now  see  who  count  one  and 
twenty  years.  Such  societies  were  common  throughout  the 
state.  All  our  interminable  debates  concerned  the  burning 
question  as  to  the  tenets  of  federal  and  state  authority.  We 
all  came  to  know  the  Federalist,  the  Constitution,  the  great 
speeches  and  the  court  decisions  almost  by  heart.  In  those 
contests  I  took  a  large  part,  and  developed  a  capacity  for  pub- 


A  DEBATING  SOCIETY  87 

lie  speaking  which  has  been  quite  effaced.  That  I  made  a  fair 
success  of  it  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  I  was  chosen  president 
of  the  society  before  I  was  eighteen  years  of  age,  though  I  was 
the  youngest  of  its  members.  What  surprises  me  as  I  look  back 
on  those  exercises  was  that  I  had  a  swing  of  phrase  and  ration- 
ality of  thought  which  attracted  judicious  elders  and  led  them 
to  believe  that  I  was  to  be  an  orator. 

It  was  my  habit  to  make  briefs  of  my  little  speeches  and  to 
rehearse  the  discourses  in  the  neighboring  woods.  Long  after- 
ward I  came  across  the  plan  of  the  argument  for  a  speech  on  the 
secession  question;  it  ran  as  follows:  At  the  outset  I  gave  a 
hearty  assent  to  the  principle  of  State  Rights,  by  which  system 
alone  it  was  possible  to  secure  the  benefits  of  local  government, 
of  a  government  near  to  the  people  and  adjustable  to  their 
needs.  But  to  establish  and  maintain  such  a  system  it  was 
necessary  to  preserve  the  Union  as  it  existed ;  for  if  it  were 
divided  into  a  slaveholding  section  and  a  non-slaveholding  sec- 
tion the  inevitable  consequence  would  be  interminable  war  be- 
tween those  opposed  nations,  each  of  which  would  have  to  seek 
the  strength  consolidation  only  could  give  with  the  consequent 
destruction  of  state  rights.  This  thesis  was,  doubtless,  taken 
in  part  from  the  ancient  debater,  and  the  illustrations  from 
what  Marshall  had  taught  me ;  but  the  judgment  was,  in  effect, 
original  and  the  argument  good.  I  have  never  seen  it  set  forth 
in  just  this  form.  It  had  at  least  the  merit  of  clearing  my  mind 
as  to  the  situation.  It  kept  me  on  the  Union  side,  though  there 
were  strong,  almost  mastering  influences  due  to  my  youthful 
friends  that  inclined  me  to  go  South.  Whether  my  arguments 
convinced  others  I  do  not  know,  although  they  had  a  rather 
wide  currency,  since  they  found  their  way  into  print  and  thus 
to  speakers  who  were  often  heard. 

The  political  debate  which  went  on  in  Kentucky  between 
1858  and  1861  probably  was  the  most  universal  and  effective 
of  any  ever  held  by  a  commonwealth.  Men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren shared  in  it,  with  the  result  that  I  have  noted  elsewhere, 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 


88     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

that  when  the  time  for  action  came  almost  every  person  knew 
his  mind.  There  was  hardly  a  turncoat  or  a  laggard  in  judg- 
ment. Moreover,  the  long  study  of  the  problem  enabled  the 
people  to  see  how  complicated  it  was,  and  how  great  was  the 
room  for  diversity  of  opinion.  To  this  was  due  the  manfulness 
and  dignity  of  the  actual  war,  so  far  as  it  was  shaped  by  the 
commonwealth,  and  the  speedy  reconciliation  of  the  divided 
brethren  when  it  came  to  an  end. 

It  was  generally  accepted,  as  far  back  as  I  remember,  that 
there  would  be  an  effort  of  the  North  to  secede  from  the 
Union.  As  an  instance  of  this,  I  may  note  that  as  a  child  I 
heard  in  the  family  a  good  deal  of  talk  concerning  Zachary 
Taylor,  who  was  in  some  way  a  kinsman  of  my  mother's  peo- 
ple. This  interested  me,  because  he  was  one  of  the  heroes  of 
the  Mexican  War,  —  one  of  the  imagined  campaigns  of  my 
childhood,  —  as  was  also  Jefferson  Davis.  Among  the  things 
told  was  Taylor's  saying,  that  if  the  Union  ever  went  to  the 
devil,  Davis  would  be  in  the  lead.  Shortly  before  my  mother 
died  in  1891,  I  asked  her  about  this  memory,  taking  pains 
not  to  lead  up  to  the  answer.  She  repeated  this  remark 
attributed  to  Taylor,  telling  me  further  that  Davis  had  mar- 
ried Taylor's  daughter  without  his  consent,  and  that  the  re- 
mark was  probably  due  to  irritation  on  that  account.  I  learned 
also  that  they  were  afterwards  reconciled.  It  seems  not  un- 
likely that  even  at  that  early  day  Davis  may  have  been  among 
those  who  believed  that  the  free  and  the  slaveholding  states 
should  separate. 

I  also  recall  the  fact  that  in  1857,  when  my  father  planted  a 
vineyard  on  a  hill  about  two  miles  south  of  the  Ohio  River,  I 
urged  before  the  work  was  begun  that  the  place  would  from  its 
commanding  position  be  a  part  of  the  fortifications  for  the  de- 
fence of  Cincinnati;  it  turned  out  to  be  the  case,  for  the  vine- 
yard was  ruined  by  the  great  earthworks  erected  in  the  centre 
of  it  in  1862.  This  incident  was  recalled  to  my  memory  by  my 
father  in  about  1880,  he  attributing  to  me  the  remark  that  "it 


SECESSION  TALK  89 

was  too  good  for  grape-shot,  to  be  used  for  grapes."  I  much 
doubt  the  pun,  but  I  well  remember  how  I  dreamed  of  the  use 
of  the  site  for  a  fortress  as  early  as  1854.  I  had  seen  forts  at 
various  places  on  the  seaboard. 


CHAPTER  VII 

I   BECOME   AGASSIZ'S   PUPIL   AT    HABVABD 

IN  1858,  when  I  was  seventeen  years  old,  it  was  determined  that 
I  should  have  a  good  education.  My  parents  could  well  afford 
this,  for  my  grandfather  had  left  considerable  property  and  be- 
sides that  there  were  other  means.  The  plan  was  that  I  should 
have  a  liberal  training,  and  then  make  up  my  mind  as  to  what 
profession  I  would  adopt.  It  was  at  first  proposed  that  I  should 
go  to  West  Point,  but  my  fancy  for  war  had  passed,  and  not 
even  the  argument  that  there  was  war  to  come,  and  that  soon, 
affected  me.  My  desire,  moved  by  my  teacher  Escher,  was  to 
go  to  Heidelberg;  fortunately  it  was  determined  that  I  should 
begin  my  exploration  of  the  realm  of  higher  learning  at  Har- 
vard College.  We  supposed  that  I  was  far  enough  along  to 
enter  the  sophomore  class  in  1859,  and  after  graduating  that 
I  would  go  to  Germany  for  further  study.  For  my  own  part, 
I  cared  little  where  I  went  or  what  I  did.  There  was  need  of 
enlargement,  the  resources  about  me  were  used  up,  and  I  was 
so  shaped  that  if  a  change  had  not  been  made,  I  should  have 
wandered  away  in  search  of  adventures. 

My  father  went  with  me  to  Cambridge,  and  as  it  was  well  on 
in  the  first  term,  I  was  placed  under  a  tutor  recommended  by 
his  classmate,  Dixwell.  I  was  then  a  lank  fellow,  six  feet  high, 
very  slender,  nimble  from  a  good  though  limited  physical  train- 
ing, still  rather  feeble  from  attacks  of  malaria  and  megrims. 
As  for  my  training,  what  has  been  said  before  shows  that  it  was 
from  the  schoolmaster's  point  of  view  a  jumble  of  unrelated 
matters,  —  a  very  poor  basis  for  collegiate  study,  which  took 
no  account  of  a  training  in  arms  and  equitation,  and  as  little 
of  philosophy  and  geology  or  a  knowledge  of  human  nature. 


PREPARING  FOR  HARVARD  91 

Still,  on  going  me  over,  my  tutor  thought  I  could  be  put  in 
the  sophomore  class  in  the  autumn  of  1859. 

Although  my  studies  interested  me,  — anything  did,  for  I  had 
then  and  ever  since  a  capacity  to  be  interested  in  anything  put 
before  me,  —  my  tutor  most  commanded  my  attention.  He 
was  a  senior  in  Harvard  College,  and  had  a  well-deserved  name 
for  scholarship  in  the  classics  as  well  as  for  a  miscellaneous  as- 
sortment of  talents  and  knowledge.  He  was  reputed  to  be  the 
best  player  of  the  game  of  checkers  in  the  country ;  knew  the 
political  history  of  the  United  States  amazingly  well;  was 
learned  in  pugilism,  having  at  his  tongue's  end  the  story  of  all 
the  prize  fights  of  recent  times ;  withal  he  was  the  merriest  little 
man  I  have  ever  seen.  His  curly  head  and  radiant  visage 
charmed  me  at  first,  and  remain  as  treasured  recollections  in 
a  whole  gallery  of  such  memories.  I  well  recall  my  first  morn- 
ing with  him,  when,  after  going  over  the  best  of  what  I  could 
and  could  not  do,  he  asked  me  if  I  could  box.  I  pleaded  guilty 
to  some  knowledge  of  that  ignoble  art.  At  that  time  I  had  not 
learned  of  his  interest  in  it,  and  thought  that  I  would  be  lowered 
in  his  eyes  by  the  confession.  To  my  surprise,  indeed  to  my 
horror,  for  I  had  a  swordsman's  contempt  for  the  business,  he 
insisted  on  my  having  a  bout  with  him  at  once.  I  had  learned 
boxing  in  Scherer's  school  of  arms,  where  it  was  taught  by  a 
competent  man,  but  classed  as  a  very  degraded  form  of  fight- 
ing, ranking  below  quarterstaff .  It  was  regarded  as  an  ignoble 
if  sometimes  necessary  means  of  defence,  only  to  be  resorted 
to  in  extremity  when  you  were  contending  with  common  people 
and  had  no  blessed  steel  at  hand.  The  eager  little  man  proved 
very  unskilful.  At  the  very  first  tap  he  tipped  over,  his  head 
going  against  a  window-pane,  smashing  the  glass  but  happily 
not  harming  him.  I  shall  never  forget  my  mingled  wonder  and 
exasperation  at  this  incident.  My  training  with  the  reverend 
philosopher  Escher  had  set  up  in  my  mind  a  category  of  the 
tutor  into  which  this  new-found  specimen  by  no  means  fitted. 

My  work  with  my  mentor  went  in  a  fair  way  for  some  months 


92  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

during  the  winter  and  spring  in  Cambridge,  and  during  the 
summer  in  Keene,  New  Hampshire.  In  Cambridge,  I  found 
myself  in  an  unhappy  social  position,  for  the  reason  that  my 
station  as  a  sub-freshman,  as  an  inferior  to  the  men  of  my  own 
age  already  in  college,  was  humiliating  to  my  sense  of  self-im- 
portance, and  in  marked  contrast  to  that  I  had  won  at  home. 
In  Keene,  I  found  myself  in  a  charming  New  England  com- 
munity, where  the  life  resembled  that  to  which  I  was  native. 
There  the  fact  that  I  could  ride,  shoot,  act  in  theatricals,  spout 
poetry,  and  descant  on  philosophy  put  me  back  into  the  class 
of  men,  so  that  I  was  myself  again.  While  in  Keene,  there  came 
an  odd  interest  in  my  education  which,  though  but  a  trifle, 
proved  most  telling.  My  tutor,  with  whom  I  had  read  much 
Latin  verse  in  a  manner  which  he  approved,  for  my  scanning 
was  uncommonly  good,  —  I  had  a  natural  ear  for  it,  —  one 
day  asked  me  the  rule  for  the  quantity  of  a  syllable,  only  to 
find  that  I  was  absolutely  ignorant  of  such  written  prescrip- 
tions. The  long  list  of  these  rules  was  then  produced  —  they 
were  to  be  learned  at  once.  Now  I  cannot  by  any  contrivance 
manage  to  fix  in  my  mind  a  succession  of  irrelevances.  If  he 
had  commanded  me  to  commit  all  of  Ovid,  I  should  willingly 
have  set  about  the  task;  as  it  was,  I  asked  him  if  in  his  opinion 
Horace  had  learned  those  precious  rules.  He  was  sure  that  he 
had  not,  and  equally  certain  that  I  must  learn  them  if  I  had 
any  expectation  of  getting  into  Harvard  College.  On  that  issue 
we  parted.  I  refused  to  spend  time  on  an  unnecessary  bit  of 
purely  formal  work. 

I  was  the  more  content  to  give  up  a  training  in  Harvard  Col- 
lege, for  the  reason  that  my  stay  in  Keene  had  convinced  me 
that  I  was  more  naturalist  than  humanist,  in  that  I  could  not 
content  myself  with  the  book  side  of  culture.  The  life  of  the 
fields,  the  brooks  and  rocks,  was  nearer  to  me  than  that  of  the 
men  and  thoughts  of  long  ago.  Moreover,  in  some  way  I  had 
come  across  Agassiz's  essay  on  classification,  then  just  pub- 
lished, and  in  it  I  found  something  at  once  of  science  and 


FIRST  MEETING  WITH  AGASSIZ  93 

philosophy.  As  I  recall  it,  this  essay  was  the  introduction  to 
Agassiz's  series,  never  completed,  of  contributions  to  the  nat- 
ural history  of  North  America,  the  volume  concerning  the  Tes- 
tudinata.  These  creatures  had  interested  me  in  my  childhood; 
I  had  one  of  them  among  my  first  "pets"  when  I  was  about 
ten  years  old,  and  fancied,  I  think  with  good  reason,  that  he 
learned  to  know  me  and  to  come  to  my  call.  While  at  Keene, 
I  became  much  interested  in  several  aquatic  species  which  were 
new  to  me.  The  essay  and  the  descriptions  in  the  memoir,  along 
with  the  other  contacts  of  nature  in  that  lovely  district,  re- 
awakened my  enthusiasm  for  the  world  below  man,  so  that  the 
demand  of  my  tutor  that  I  should  set  me  to  learning  rules  for 
scanning  Latin  verse  came  most  inopportunely  for  my  college 
education. 

At  the  time  of  my  secession  from  the  humanities,  Agassiz 
was  in  Europe:  he  did  not  return,  I  think,  until  the  autumn 
of  1859.  I  had,  however,  picked  up  several  acquaintances 
among  his  pupils,  learned  what  they  were  about,  and  gained 
some  notion  of  his  methods.  After  about  a  month  he  returned, 
and  I  had  my  first  contact  with  the  man  who  was  to  have 
the  most  influence  on  my  life  of  any  of  the  teachers  to  whom  I 
am  indebted.  I  shall  never  forget  even  the  lesser  incidents  of 
this  meeting,  for  this  great  master  by  his  presence  gave  an  im- 
portance to  his  surroundings,  so  that  the  room  where  you  met 
him  and  the  furniture  stayed  with  the  memory  of  him. 

When  I  first  met  Louis  Agassiz,  he  was  still  in  the  prime  of 
his  admirable  manhood;  though  he  was  then  fifty-two  years 
old,  and  had  passed  his  constructive  period,  he  still  had  the 
look  of  a  young  man.  His  face  was  the  most  genial  and 
engaging  that  I  had  ever  seen  and  his  manner  captivated  me 
altogether.  But  as  I  had  been  among  men  who  had  a  free 
swing,  and  for  a  year  among  people  who  seemed  to  me  to  be 
cold  and  super-rational,  hungry  as  I  doubtless  was  for  human 
sympathy,  Agassiz's  welcome  went  to  my  heart,  —  I  was  at 
once  his  captive.  It  has  been  my  good  chance  to  see  many 


94     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

men  of  engaging  presence  and  ways,  but  I  have  never  known 
his  equal. 

As  the  personal  quality  of  Agassiz  was  the  greatest  of  his 
powers,  and  as  my  life  was  greatly  influenced  by  my  immediate 
and  enduring  affection  for  him,  I  am  tempted  to  set  forth  some 
incidents  which  show  that  my  swift  devotion  to  my  new-found 
master  was  not  due  to  the  accidents  of  the  situation  or  to  any 
boyish  fancy.  I  will  content  myself  with  one  of  those  stories, 
which  will  of  itself  show  how  easily  he  captivated  men,  even 
those  of  the  ruder  sort.  Some  years  after  we  came  together, 
when  indeed  I  was  formally  his  assistant,  —  I  believe  it  was  in 
1866, — he  became  much  interested  in  the  task  of  comparing  the 
skeletons  of  thoroughbred  horses  with  those  of  common  stock. 
I  had  at  his  request  tried,  but  without  success,  to  obtain  the 
bones  of  certain  famous  stallions  from  my  acquaintances  among 
the  racing  men  in  Kentucky.  Early  one  morning  there  was  a 
fire,  supposed  to  be  incendiary,  in  the  stables  in  the  Beacon 
Park  track,  a  mile  from  the  College,  in  which  a  number  of  horses 
had  been  killed  and  many  badly  scorched.  I  had  just  returned 
from  the  place,  where  I  had  left  a  mob  of  irate  owners  and 
jockeys  in  a  violent  state  of  mind,  intent  on  finding  some  one 
to  hang.  I  had  seen  the  chance  of  getting  a  valuable  lot  of 
stallions  for  the  museum,  but  it  was  evident  that  the  time  was 
most  inopportune  for  suggesting  such  a  disposition  of  the  re- 
mains. Had  I  done  so,  the  results  would  have  been,  to  say  the 
least,  unpleasant. 

As  I  came  away  from  the  profane  lot  of  horse-men  gathered 
about  the  ruins  of  their  fortunes  or  their  hopes,  I  met  Agassiz 
almost  running  to  seize  the  chance  of  specimens.  I  told  him  to 
come  back  with  me,  that  we  must  wait  until  the  mob  had  spent 
its  rage ;  but  he  kept  on.  I  told  him  further  that  he  risked  spoil- 
ing his  good  chance,  and  finally  that  he  would  have  his  head 
punched ;  but  he  trotted  on.  I  went  with  him,  in  the  hope  that 
I  might  protect  him  from  the  consequences  of  his  curiosity. 
When  we  reached  the  spot,  there  came  about  a  marvel;  in  a 


AGASSIZ'S  PERSONAL  QUALITY  95 

moment  he  had  all  those  raging  men  at  his  command.  He  went 
at  once  to  work  with  the  horses  which  had  been  hurt,  but  were 
savable.  His  intense  sympathy  with  the  creatures,  his  know- 
ledge of  the  remedies  to  be  applied,  his  immediate  appropria- 
tion of  the  whole  situation,  of  which  he  was  at  once  the  master, 
made  those  rude  folk  at  once  his  friends.  Nobody  asked  who 
he  was,  for  the  good  reason  that  he  was  heart  and  soul  of  them. 
When  the  task  of  helping  was  done,  then  Agassiz  skilfully  came 
to  the  point  of  his  business  —  the  skeletons  —  and  this  so 
dextrously  and  sympathetically,  that  the  men  were,  it  seemed, 
ready  to  turn  over  the  living  as  well  as  the  dead  beasts  for  his 
service.  I  have  seen  a  lot  of  human  doing,  much  of  it  critically 
as  actor  or  near  observer,  but  this  was  in  many  ways  the  great- 
est. The  supreme  art  of  it  was  in  the  use  of  a  perfectly  spon- 
taneous and  most  actually  sympathetic  motive  to  gain  an  end. 
With  others,  this  state  of  mind  would  lead  to  affectation;  with 
him,  it  in  no  wise  diminished  the  quality  of  the  emotion.  He 
could  measure  the  value  of  the  motive,  but  do  it  without  lessen- 
ing its  moral  import. 

As  my  account  of  Agassiz's  quality  should  rest  upon  my 
experiences  with  him,  I  shall  now  go  on  to  tell  how  and  to  what 
effect  he  trained  me.  In  that  day  there  were  no  written  exam- 
inations on  any  subjects  to  which  candidates  for  the  Lawrence 
Scientific  School  had  to  pass.  The  professors  in  charge  of  the 
several  departments  questioned  the  candidates  and  determined 
their  fitness  to  pursue  the  course  of  study  they  desired  to  un- 
dertake. Few  or  none  who  had  any  semblance  of  an  education 
were  denied  admission  to  Agassiz's  laboratory.  At  that  time, 
the  instructors  had,  in  addition  to  their  meagre  salaries,  — 
his  was  then  $2500  per  annum,  —  the  regular  fees  paid  in  by 
the  students  under  his  charge.  So  I  was  promptly  assured  that 
I  was  admitted.  Be  it  said,  however,  that  he  did  give  me  an 
effective  oral  examination,  which,  as  he  told  me,  was  intended 
to  show  whether  I  could  expect  to  go  forward  to  a  degree  at  the 
end  of  four  years  of  study.  On  this  matter  of  the  degree  he  was 


1 


96     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

obdurate,  refusing  to  recommend  some  who  had  been  with 
him  for  many  years  and  had  succeeded  in  their  special  work, 
giving  as  reason  for  his  denial  that  they  were  "too  ignorant." 

The  examination  Agassiz  gave  me  was  directed  first  to  find 
that  I  knew  enough  Latin  and  Greek  to  make  use  of  those  lan- 
guages; that  I  could  patter  a  little  of  them  evidently  pleased 
him.  He  did  n't  care  for  those  detestable  rules  for  scanning. 
Then  came  German  and  French,  which  were  also  approved: 
I  could  read  both,  and  spoke  the  former  fairly  well.  He  did 
not  probe  me  in  my  weakest  place,  mathematics,  for  the  good 
reason  that,  badly  as  I  was  off  in  that  subject,  he  was  in  a  worse 
plight.  Then  asking  me  concerning  my  reading,  he  found  that 
I  had  read  the  essay  on  classification  and  had  noted  in  it  the 
influence  of  Schelling's  views.  Most  of  his  questioning  related 
to  this  field,  and  the  more  than  fair  beginning  of  our  relations 
then  made  was  due  to  the  fact  that  I  had  some  enlargement  on 
that  side.  So,  too,  he  was  pleased  to  find  that  I  had  managed 
a  lot  of  Latin,  Greek,  and  German  poetry,  and  had  been  trained 
with  the  sword.  He  completed  this  inquiry  by  requiring  that 
I  bring  my  foils  and  masks  for  a  bout.  In  this  test  he  did  not 
fare  well,  for,  though  not  untrained,  he  evidently  knew  more 
of  the  Schldger  than  of  the  rapier.  He  was  heavy-handed  and 
lacked  finesse.  This,  with  my  previous  experience,  led  me  to 
the  conclusion  that  I  had  struck  upon  a  kind  of  tutor  in  Cam- 
bridge not  known  in  Kentucky. 

While  Agassiz  questioned  me  carefully  as  to  what  I  had  read 
and  what  I  had  seen,  he  seemed  in  this  preliminary  going  over 
in  no  wise  concerned  to  find  what  I  knew  about  fossils,  rocks, 
animals,  and  plants;  he  put  aside  the  offerings  of  my  scanty 
lore.  This  offended  me  a  bit,  as  I  recall,  for  the  reason  that  I 
thought  I  knew,  and  for  a  self-taught  lad  really  did  know,  a  good 
deal  about  such  matters,  especially  as  to  the  habits  of  insects, 
particularly  spiders.  It  seemed  hard  to  be  denied  the  chance 
to  make  my  parade;  but  I  afterward  saw  what  this  meant, 
that  he  did  not  intend  to  let  me  begin  my  tasks  by  posing  as  a 


AGASSIZ'S  LABORATORY  97 

naturalist.  The  beginning  was  indeed  quite  different,  and,  as 
will  be  seen,  in  a  manner  that  quickly  evaporated  my  conceit. 
It  was  made  and  continued  in  a  way  I  will  now  recount. 

Agassiz's  laboratory  was  then  in  a  rather  small  two-storied 
building,  looking  much  like  a  square  dwelling-house,  which 
stood  where  the  College  Gymnasium  now  stands.  The  struct- 
ure is  still  extant,  though  in  forty-six  years  it  has  three  times 
changed  its  site  and  uses,  having  been  first  a  club-house  for  his 
students  on  Divinity  Avenue,  where  the  Peabody  Museum 
has  been  built ;  it  went  thence  to  a  site  on  Jarvis  Street,  where 
it  served  as  the  club-house  and  theatre  for  the  Hasty  Pudding 
Club;  from  there  a  little  further  west  to  its  present  location, 
where,  after  being  long  the  habitation  for  the  department  of 
French,  it  came  to  be  a  part  of  the  little  establishment  for  teach- 
ing students  astronomy.  Agassiz  had  recently  moved  into  it 
from  a  shed  on  the  marsh  near  Brighton  bridge,  the  original 
tenants,  the  engineers,  having  come  to  riches  in  the  shape  of  the 
brick  structure  now  known  as  the  Lawrence  Building.  In  this 
primitive  establishment  Agassiz's  laboratory,  as  distinguished 
from  the  storerooms  where  the  collections  were  crammed,  oc- 
cupied one  room  about  thirty  feet  long  and  fifteen  feet  wide 
-  what  is  now  the  west  room  on  the  lower  floor  of  the  edifice. 
In  this  place,  already  packed,  I  had  assigned  to  me  a  small 
pine  table  with  a  rusty  tin  pan  upon  it.  Of  other  students, 
all  somewhat  older  than  myself,  there  were :  Alpheus  Hyatt, 
F.  W.  Putnam,  A.  E.  Verrill,  E.  S.  Morse,  Richard  Wheatland, 
Caleb  Cook,  and  a  person  by  the  name  of  Lamb.  Hereto  also 
came  from  time  to  time  but  not  regularly  Theodore  Lyman 
and  Stimpson.  There  was  also  in  some  narrow  quarters 
a  translator,  a  Swede,  whose  name  is  gone  from  me,  and  a 
sterling  old  person,  Gugenheimer,  who  served  as  a  preparator. 
Agassiz's  artists  generally  worked  at  his  near-by  dwelling  or  at 
his  place  at  Nahant.  One  of  the  small  rooms  upstairs  was  a 
sleeping-place  for  Putnam,  who  served  as  keeper  of  the  estab- 
lishment. I  have  given  what  may  seem  unnecessary  details 


98     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

concerning  this  primitive  laboratory  and  museum,  in  part  for 
the  reason  that  there  is,  so  far  as  I  know,  no  record  of  it,  and 
also  that  it  may  be  set  over  against  the  existing  conditions  of 
what  used  to  be  called  Natural  History  in  the  University. 
~  When  I  sat  me  down  before  my  tin  pan,  Agassiz  brought 
me  a  small  fish,  placing  it  before  me  with  the  rather  stern  re- 
quirement that  I  should  study  it,  but  should  on  no  account 
talk  to  any  one  concerning  it,  nor  read  anything  relating  to 
fishes,  until  I  had  his  permission  so  to  do.  To  my  inquiry  "  What 
shall  I  do?"  he  said  in  effect :  "  Find  out  what  you  can  without 
damaging  the/  specimen ;  when  I  think  that  you  have  done  the 
work  I  will  question  you."  In  the  course  of  an  hour  I  thought 
I  had  compassed  that  fish;  it  was  rather  an  unsavory  object, 
giving  forth  the  stench  of  old  alcohol,  then  loathsome  to  me, 
though  in  time  I  came  to  like  it.  Many  of  the  scales  were 
loosened  so  that  they  fell  off.  It  appeared  to  me  to  be  a  case  for 
a  summary  report,  which  I  was  anxious  to  make  and  get  on  to 
the  next  stage  of  the  business.  But  Agassiz,  though  always 
within  call,  concerned  himself  no  further  with  me  that  day, 
nor  the  next,  nor  for  a  week.  At  first,  this  neglect  was  distress- 
ing; but  I  saw  that  it  was  a  game,  for  he  was,  as  I  discerned 
rather  than  saw,  covertly  watching  me.  So  I  set  my  wits  to 
work  upon  the  thing,  and  in  the  course  of  a  hundred  hours  or 
so  thought  I  had  done  much  —  a  hundred  times  as  much  as 
seemed  possible  at  the  start.  I  got  interested  in  finding  out 
how  the  scales  went  in  series,  their  shape,  the  form  and  place- 
ment of  the  teeth,  etc.  Finally,  I  felt  full  of  the  subject  and 
probably  expressed  it  in  my  bearing ;  as  for  words  about  it  then, 
there  were  none  from  my  master  except  his  cheery  "Good 
morning."  At  length  on  the  seventh  day,  came  the  question 
"Well?"  and  my  disgorge  of  learning  to  him  as  he  sat  on  the 
edge  of  my  table  puffing  his  cigar.  At  the  end  of  the  hour's  tell- 
ing, he  swung  off  and  away,  saying,  "That  is  not  right."  Here 
I  began  to  think  that  after  all  perhaps  the  rules  for  scanning 
Latin  verse  were  not  the  worst  infliction  in  the  world.  More- 


FIRST  WORK  UNDER  AGASSIZ  99 

over,  it  was  clear  that  he  was  playing  a  game  with  me  to  find 
if  I  were  capable  of  doing  hard,  continuous  work  without  the 
support  of  a  teacher,  and  this  stimulated  me  to  labor.  I  went 
at  the  task  anew,  discarded  my  first  notes,  and  in  another  week 
of  ten  hours  a  day  labor  I  had  results  which  astonished  myself 
and  satisfied  him/Still  there  was  no  trace  of  praise  in  words  or 
manner.  He  signified  that  it  would  do  by  placing  before  me 
about  a  half  a  peck  of  bones,  telling  me  to  see  what  I  could 
make  of  them,  with  no  further  directions  to  guide  me.  I  soon 
found  that  they  were  the  skeletons  of  half  a  dozen  fishes  of  dif- 
ferent species ;  the  jaws  told  me  that  much  at  a  first  inspection. 
The  task  evidently  was  to  fit  the  separate  bones  together  in  their 
proper  order.  Two  months  or  more  went  to  this  task  with  no 
other  help  than  an  occasional  looking  over  my  grouping  with 
the  stereotyped  remark:  "That  is  not  right/}  Finally,  the  task 
was  done  and  I  was  again  set  upon  alcoholic  specimens,  —  this 
time  a  remarkable  lot  of  specimens  representing,  perhaps, 
twenty  species  of  the  side-swimmers  or  Pleuronectidae. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  sense  of  power  in  dealing  with  things 
which  I  felt  in  beginning  the  more  extended  work  on  a  group 
of  animals.  I  had  learned  the  art  of  comparing  objects,  which 
is  the  basis  of  the  naturalist's  work.  At  this  stage  I  was  al- 
lowed to  read  and  to  discuss  my  work  with  others  about  me. 
I  did  both  eagerly,  and  acquired  a  considerable  knowledge  of 
the  literature  of  ichthyology,  becoming  especially  interested 
in  the  system  of  classification,  then  most  imperfect.  I  tried  to 
follow  Agassiz's  scheme  of  division  into  the  order  of  ctenoids 
and  ganoids,  with  the  result  that  I  found  one  of  my  species 
of  side-swimmers  had  cycloid  scales  on  one  side  and  ctenoid 
on  the  other.  This  not  only  shocked  my  sense  of  the  value  of 
classification  in  a  way  that  permitted  of  no  full  recovery  of  my 
original  respect  for  the  process,  but  for  a  time  shook  my  con- 
fidence in  my  master's  knowledge.  At  the  same  time  I  had  a 
malicious  pleasure  in  exhibiting  my  find  to  him,  expecting  to 
repay  in  part  the  humiliation  which  he  had  evidently  tried  to 


100     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

inflict  on  my  conceit.  To  my  question  as  to  how  the  nonde- 
script should  be  classified  he  said:  "My  boy,  there  are  now 
two  of  us  who  know  that/' 

This  incident  of  the  fish  made  an  end  of  my  novitiate.  After 
that,  with  a  suddenness  of  transition  which  puzzled  me,  Agassiz 
became  very  communicative;  we  passed  indeed  into  the  rela- 
tion of  friends  of  like  age  and  purpose,  and  he  actually  con- 
sulted me  as  to  what  I  should  like  to  take  up  as  a  field  of  study. 
Finding  that  I  wished  to  devote  myself  to  geology,  he  set  me 
to  work  on  the  Brachiopoda  as  the  best  group  of  fossils  to  serve 
as  data  in  determining  the  Paleozoic  horizons.  So  far  as  his 
rather  limited  knowledge  of  the  matter  went,  he  guided  me  in 
the  field  about  Cambridge,  in  my  reading,  and  to  acquaintances 
of  his  who  were  concerned  with  earth  structures.  I  came  thus 
to  know  Charles  T.  Jackson,  Jules  Marcou,  and,  later,  the  bro- 
thers Rogers,  Henry  and  James.  At  the  same  time  I  kept  up 
the  study  of  zoology,  undertaking  to  make  myself  acquainted 
with  living  organic  forms  as  a  basis  for  a  knowledge  of  fossils. 

Just  after  I  entered  with  Agassiz,  the  construction  of  his 
museum  was  begun  with  the  small  part  of  the  now  great  edi- 
fice which  constitutes  the  end  of  the  northern  wing.  There 
were  four  rooms  on  the  ground  floor,  each  with  galleries,  and  a 
like  number,  similarly  galleried,  on  the  second  floor.  Early  in 
1860  the  building  was  ready  for  use.  Then  came  the  work  of 
transportation  of  the  collections  stored  in  the  laboratory  and 
elsewhere  to  their  new  domicile,  and  the  effort  to  arrange  them 
in  some  kind  of  order,  so  as  to  give  to  the  public  the  semblance 
of  a  museum ;  for  from  a  generous  public  came  the  money  and 
placation  was  necessary.  Into  this  work  the  students  were  in  a 
way  impressed;  so  for  a  year  I  was  with  others  occupied  in 
sorting  and  arranging  a  jumble  of  materials,  odds  and  ends  from 
all  over  the  earth.  In  the  old  storage  place  there  was  no  chance 
to  exhibit  any  of  the  show  specimens.  So  far  as  I  can  remem- 
ber, the  only  thing  that  people  came  to  see  was  a  large  glass 
jar  containing  several  heads  of  Chinamen,  which  some  one  had 


THE  NEW  MUSEUM  101 

brought  from  a  place  of  execution.  The  sight  of  this  was  much 
sought  after,  especially  by  women  in  search  of  a  sensation.  In 
the  course  of  a  year  a  collection  was  installed  which  in  certain 
ways  was  then  the  best  in  this  country. 

My  share  in  the  work  of  bringing  a  preliminary  order  into 
the  new  museum  was  considerable,  and  while  for  some  months 
it  broke  all  systematic  study  it  was  largely  profitable.  It  gave 
me  a  chance  to  gain  hard  contact  with  a  great  range  of  animal 
forms,  both  recent  and  fossil,  and  to  it  I  owe  a  general  know- 
ledge of  organic  forms  which  I  could  not  have  otherwise  ac- 
quired. There  was  at  that  time  no  other  means  of  finding  one's 
way  to  such  information.  Agassiz's  lectures  gave  us  little. 
Though  very  interesting  from  their  personal  quality,  the  field 
they  covered  was  curiously  limited.  In  the  first  term  he  gave 
about  twenty-five  lectures  on  zoology  and  in  the  second  about 
the  same  number  in  geology.  The  first  series  began  with  a  very 
interesting  sketch  of  the  general  principles  of  the  science,  which 
quickly  passed  to  problems  of  classification  and  thence  to  ques- 
tions of  comparative  anatomy,  practically  limited  to  the  polyps, 
acalephs,  and  echinoderms.  In  the  years  from  1859  to  his  death 
in  1873,  whenever  he  gave  these  lectures,  perhaps  six  or  eight 
years,  their  form  and  contents  remained  unchanged.  The  geo- 
logical series  was  practically  altogether  devoted  to  the  sim- 
pler problems  of  stratigraphy  or  the  succession  of  geological 
periods ;  about  one  third  of  the  course  was  given  to  the  glacial 
period.  Except  for  the  noble  and  marvellously  contagious 
enthusiasm  with  which  he  approached  the  subject  and  the 
admirable  pictures  of  the  masters  he  had  known,  the  lectures 
were  not  profitable  to  his  students;  in  those  regards  —  the 
weightiest  possible  —  they  were  most  valuable. 

By  far  the  greater  part  of  the  instruction  I  had  from  my 
master  was  in  divers  bits  of  talk  concerning  certain  species 
and  the  arrangement  of  the  specimens.  He  would  often  work 
with  me  for  hours  unrolling  fossils,  all  the  I  while  keeping  up  a 
running  commentary  which  would  range  this  way  and  that,  of 


102  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

men,  of  places,  of  Aristotle,  of  Oken.  He  was  a  perfect  narra- 
tor, and  on  any  peg  of  fact  would  quickly  hang  a  fascinating 
discourse.  Often  when  he  was  at  work  on  wet  specimens  while 
I  was  dealing  with  fossils,  he  would  come  to  me  with,  say,  a  fish 
in  each  hand,  that  I  might  search  in  his  pockets  for  a  cigar,  cut 
the  tip,  put  it  between  his  teeth,  and  light  it  for  him.  That 
would  remind  him  of  something,  and  he  would  puff  and  talk 
until  the  cigar  was  burned  out,  and  he  would  have  to  be  pro- 
vided with  another. 

As  soon  as  Agassiz's  collections  were  removed  to  the  new 
museum,  the  old  building  (now  to  be  known  as  Zoological  Hall) 
was  put  on  rollers  and  taken  across  lots  to  its  second  station 
on  Divinity  Avenue.  It  was  then  given  over  to  what  was  called 
the  Zoological  Club,  an  association  of  about  a  dozen  students 
who  were  working  with  him.  It  was  so  arranged  as  to  provide 
bed-rooms,  a  dining-room,  and  a  room  in  the  centre  of  the  upper 
story  with  which  the  bed-rooms  connected,  to  serve  as  the 
meeting-place  of  the  Zoological  Club,  whiclTwas  organized  at 
this  time  and  became  the  centre  of  our  life.  I  had  the  good 
fortune  to  receive  in  the  allotment  a  sleeping-place  and  a  study 
connected  therewith.  These,  as  I  did  not  lack  money,  were 
well  furnished.  As  my  quarters  lay  on  the  path  from  his  house 
to  the  Museum,  my  master  got  into  the  habit  of  coming  for  a 
bit  of  talk,  not  always  on  science,  perhaps  oftenest  about  peo- 
ple he  had  known,  about  politics,  in  which  he  was  keenly  in- 
terested, or  about  his  plans  and  perplexities.  It  seemed  to  me, 
as  it  did  to  some  of  my  mates,  somewhat  curious,  for  I  was  the 
youngest  of  the  lot  and  a  newcomer.  I  now  see  that  it  was 
probably  owing  to  the  fact  that  in  some  ways  I  was  then 
a  good  deal  more  of  a  man  in  my  knowledge  of  the  world 
than  my  elders  and  betters  of  the  association.  Something 
was  due  to  the  fact  that  I  had  been  trained  by  Escher,  an 
educated  fellow  countryman  of  his,  and  had  known  some  of 
the  "forty-eighters,"  and  profited  by  the  enlargement  that 
acquaintance  offered;  still  more,  perhaps,  to  the  fact  that  I 


THE  ZOOLOGICAL  CLUB  103 

had  become  in  a  way  intimate  in  the  houses  of  some  of  his 
friends  in  Boston. 

In  my  room  my  master  became  divinely  young  again.  He 
would  lie  on  the  sofa,  drink  what  I  had  to  offer,  —  I  brought 
with  me  the  then  Southern  habit  of  offering  wine  to  guests,  — 
take  a  pipe  and  return  in  mind  to  his  student  days,  or  to  his 
plans  for  work,  or  to  his  scheme  of  a  museum  which  should 
present  the  animal  and  vegetable  kingdoms  so  plainly  that  he 
who  ran  would  perforce  read  —  and  deeply.  I  have  never  known 
a  mind  of  such  exuberance,  of  such  eager  contact  with  large 
desires.  I  was  in  thorough  sympathy  with  this  museum  and 
with  his  projects,  so  that  I  had  large  profit  from  these  inter- 
esting meetings,  for  they  awakened  an  enthusiasm  for  con- 
structive work  which  I  doubt  if  any  other  accident  of  life  would 
have  aroused.1 

The  meetings  of  the  Zoological  Club,  at  which  all  sorts  of 
problems  were  discussed,  were  never  attended  by  Agassiz.  To 
our  request  that  he  would  join  us  his  answer  was  that  we  had 
better  work  alone,  though  he  advised  us  to  gather  about  us  all 
who  were  interested  in  our  problems,  and  to  give  our  joint 
studies  a  wide  range.  I  see  now  that,  while  much  concerned  for 
our  advancement,  his  aim  was  to  have  us  stand  alone,  or  at 
least  to  lean  only  on  our  mates.  Although  he  could  not  help 
shaping  those  about  him  to  his  mode  of  thought  and  was  often 
indignant  with  them  when  they  departed  from  his  path,  he 
had  a  sound  practical  sense  of  the  danger  of  founding  a  school 
of  followers;  more  than  once  he  commented  on  this  error  of 
other  masters. 

It  was  Agassiz's  habit  to  use  his  students  to  explore  fields 

i  In  Mr.  Shaler's  note-book  for  April  7, 1860,  is  this  entry :  "  Professor  Agassiz  in  his 
lecture  this  morning  dwelt  upon  the  requirements  of  a  scientific  man  who  would  be  more 
than  a  mere  species-describer.  The  great  test,  he  said,  was  to  be  able  to  deal  with  your  sub- 
ject in  different  ways.  In  amplifying  the  idea  he  said  it  was  well  to  be  able  to  give  in  a 
single  sentence  the  whole  matter  of  months  of  labor,  in  a  form  so  true  that  a  scientific 
man  could  read  in  it  not  only  the  extent  of  your  knowledge  but  also  the  habit  of  your 
mind.  He  declared  he  could  learn  all  this  from  an  answer  couched  in  the  most  laconic 
form.  He  said  he  should  require  of  us  in  our  several  departments  first  a  monograph,  sec- 
ond a  scientific  lecture,  third  a  popular  lecture,  fourth  a  simple  child's  tale."  —  S.  P.  S. 


104  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

for  him.  This  was  an  inevitable  element  in  his  method  of  teach- 
ing, and  has  been  inevitably  followed  by  all  inquirers  who  have 
taught.  In  this  process  of  exploration  it  was  his  custom  to  set 
one  of  us  to  work  on  a  group  of  animals  concerning  which  he 
had  some  knowledge,  so  that  he  could  guide  his  inquirer,  at 
least  at  the  outset  of  his  investigation.  I  recall  that  in  this  way 
I  began  a  study  of  the  family  of  the  conchifers  known  as  the 
Arcidse,  including  the  fossil  and  recent  trigonias.  For  a  while  I 
felt  that  I  was  following  on  the  trail  which  he  had  broken,  and 
then,  as  in  the  matter  of  the  geographical  and  geological  dis- 
tribution of  the  genera  and  families,  etc.,  I  began  to  teach  him 
a  bit  that  he  did  not  know.  He  was  as  eager  to  receive  as  to 
give,  and  what  I  supplied  went  into  his  memory  as  his  own  dis- 
coveries, which  in  a  way  they  were,  for  the  direction  of  the  work 
came  from  his  mind.  In  time,  as  will  be  noted  hereafter,  this 
plan  of  collaborative  work  gave  him  trouble,  as  it  has  given 
trouble  to  others  who  taught  in  the  same  way,  —  in  that  good 
old  way  that  makes  the  pupil  feel  that  he  is  the  master  and 
thereby  wins  to  his  powers. 

At  this  time  the  relatively  small  community  of  scientific  men 
about  Boston  contained  a  much  larger  measure  of  ability  than 
it  now  does.  Besides  Agassiz,  who  by  his  wonderful  personality 
held  the  foremost  place,  there  were  Jeffries  Wyman,  Charles  T. 
Jackson,  Asa  Gray,  William  B.  Rogers,  William  Cranch  Bond, 
Benjamin  Peirce,  B.  A.  Gould,  as  well  as  a  host  of  lesser  yet  able 
men,  among  whom  I  may  name  William  Stimpson  and  later 
Jules  Marcou.  The  most  usual  meeting-place  of  these  men,  or 
of  most  of  them,  was  the  Boston  Society  of  Natural  History. 
Of  this  society  I  soon  became  a  member,  and  shortly  was  en- 
gaged in  its  then  active  life.  Thence  until  about  1870,  with  the 
exception  of  the  two  years  and  a  half  from  the  early  part  of 
1862  to  the  autumn  of  1864,  this  institution  was  much  in  my 
life.  At  first  my  efforts  were  limited  to  bringing  about  debates 
amongst  the  elders,  by  asking  questions  which  were  contrived 
to  accomplish  the  end.  Our  particular  aim  was  to  set  Agassiz 


BOSTON  SCIENTIFIC  MEN  105 

and  Rogers,  who  were  chronic  enemies,  by  the  ears.  When 
this  could  be  accomplished,  —  and  to  that  end  there  were  many 
contrivings  among  the  youngsters,  —  we  were  sure  of  good 
entertainment,  often  protracted  over  several  successive  meet- 
ings. Agassiz  was  admirable  in  discourse,  —  when  at  his  best 
the  most  simply  eloquent  speaker  I  have  ever  heard,  —  but 
his  capacity  for  debate  was  small.  Rogers,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  not  only  an  able  and  learned  geologist,  but  very  skilful  in 
argument,  with  a  keen  sense  of  the  logic  which  should  control 
statements.  Oftenest  these  debates  related  to  the  theories  of 
the  glacial  period,  but  they  covered  much  ground.  In  1860 
and  1861  the  Darwinian  hypothesis  was  often  in  the  field, 
though  at  this  time  and  place  it  had  little  support  from  any 
one  —  except  Asa  Gray,  who  could  rarely  be  induced  to  say 
anything  about  it. 

At  this  stage  of  my  life,  about  1860,  I  came  into  close  rela- 
tions with  Jeffries  Wyman,  whose  lectures  I  regularly  attended, 
and  in  whose  laboratory  work  I  took  a  small  share.  In  some 
ways  he  was  the  most  perfect  naturalist  I  have  ever  known. 
His  physical  weakness,  combined  with  his  exceeding  modesty, 
—  shyness  is  the  better  word  for  it,  —  kept  him  from  winning 
a  large  place  in  science;  but  within  the  limits  of  his  powers,  he 
had  the  best-balanced  mind  it  has  been  my  good  fortune  to 
come  into  contact  with.  His  work  on  the  question  of  sponta- 
neous generation,  a  part  of  which  I  saw,  was  a  very  model  of 
how  an  inquiry  should  be  made.  Though  he  published  but  little, 
his  store  of  knowledge  of  the  whole  field  of  natural  history  was 
surprisingly  great,  and,  as  I  came  to  find,  it  greatly  exceeded 
that  of  my  master  Agassiz  in  its  range  and  accuracy.  A  part 
of  his  quality  was  his  certainty  and  the  balanced  judgment 
which  enabled  him  unerringly  to  attain  to  it.  As  a  proof  of 
this  quality,  I  note  an  instance.  From  an  Indian  mound  I  had 
obtained  two  lots  of  bone  which  were  evidently  fragments  of 
human  tibise,  though  they  were  somewhat  malformed.  To  make 
sure  of  this,  though  the  determination  seemed  certain,  I  took 


106     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

them  to  Wyman,  asking  him  what  they  were.  To  my  surprise 
he  said  that  he  would  examine  them  and  let  me  know  next 
week.  When  I  said  to  him  that  he  surely  knew  at  a  glance,  he 
remarked  that  if  I  had  brought  him  a  human  skull  for  inspec- 
tion he  would  take  time  to  it. 

Jeffries  Wyman's  balance  of  mind  was  shown  in  his  noble 
sense  of  justice,  of  which  I  had  a  curious  example,  after  I  had 
known  him  for  a  year  or  two.  It  was  about  1860  that  a  student 
in  the  School,  who  had  come  thereto  after  my  appearance,  was 
seized  by  a  fancy  for  making  a  journey  to  the  far  East.  To 
provide  himself  with  means  for  this  venture,  he  went  about 
among  the  patrons  of  Agassiz's  work  soliciting  contributions. 
Some  of  the  givers  may  have  had  an  idea  that  they  were  giving 
to  a  project  which  had  his  approval,  though  he  had  not  been 
consulted  in  the  matter.  The  young  man's  action  exasperated 
Agassiz  and  led  him  to  an  outbreak  of  rage,  the  first  I  had 
ever  seen  him  in,  for  he  was  generally  admirably  composed  in 
manner,  even  when  inwardly  troubled.  He  had  the  offender's 
effects  put  out  of  his  room  in  Zoological  Hall  and  summarily 
of  his  own  authority  dismissed  him  from  the  School.  This 
expulsion  he  announced  to  a  meeting  of  the  students  of  the 
laboratory,  giving  his  reasons  for  it.  Knowing  the  purpose  of 
the  gathering  I  refused  to  attend  it,  for  while  I  was  not  on  good 
relations  with  the  fellow,  and  regarded  his  conduct  as  improper, 
I  refused  to  have  any  part  in  his  punishment.  I  tried,  indeed, 
to  dissuade  my  master  from  his  summary  course,  but  without 
any  other  result  than  a  berating. 

The  sense  of  even-handed  rather  formal  justice  which  has 
always  controlled  in  the  discipline  of  Harvard  University,  and 
which  requires  that  no  student  shall  be  expelled  without  a  full 
hearing  of  the  case  before  an  unprejudiced  board,  was  much 
shocked  by  the  summary  treatment  which  Agassiz  gave  to  his 
pupil.  Probably  because  I  had  refused  to  countenance  the  per- 
formance, Wyman,  who  appeared  to  have  charge  of  the  in- 
quiry which  the  authorities  made,  came  several  times  to  ques- 


JEFFRIES  AND  MORRILL  WYMAN  107 

tion  me  about  it,  and  our  discussion  of  the  matter  brought  us 
to  the  place  of  friends,  though  we  were  generations  apart.  His 
effort  to  form  a  judgment  of  this  case,  his  inevitable  fairness, 
made  a  great  impression  on  my  mind;  it  was  the  most  beautiful 
exhibition  of  fairness  and  sympathy  I  have  ever  seen.  Out  of 
it  came  the  conclusion  that  while  the  action  of  Agassiz  was  rash 
and  illegal,  the  results  were  on  the  whole  just.  I  distinctly  re- 
call how  well  Wyman  weighed  a  suggestion  of  mine  that  it  would 
not  be  right  to  judge  Agassiz's  course  of  action  by  the  rules  of 
the  place  where  he  was,  but  rather  by  those  which  held  in  the 
part  of  the  world  where  he  had  acquired  the  standard  of  con- 
duct which  he  brought  with  him  when  in  middle  life  he  came 
to  this  country;  that  the  College  in  taking  him  took  not  only 
his  learning  but  his  habits  as  well ;  that  these  would  not  always 
happen  to  fit  a  New  England  school  was  to  be  expected. 

Jeffries  Wyman  was  one  of  three  brothers  who  had  a  place 
in  the  life  of  their  time.  Morrill,  the  elder,  was  a  physician 
of  distinction  who  served  the  community  of  Cambridge,  espe- 
cially that  of  the  College,  for  over  sixty  years.  He  had  the  same 
simplicity  and  honesty  that  characterized  his  brother  Jeffries. 
He  also  knew  most  accurately  the  difference  between  know- 
ledge and  conjecture,  and  brought  to  his  judgment  of  malady 
a  rare  penetration  as  well  as  an  inventiveness  in  devising  the 
means  of  help.  Though  successful  by  dint  of  his  success,  he 
lacked  a  full  share  of  popularity  because  of  his  unwillingness 
to  humor  his  patients.  If  he  found  nothing  the  matter  with  them 
he  was  likely,  after  looking  at  the  pictures  on  the  wall  and 
making  some  irrelevant  remarks  about  politics  or  the  weather, 
to  go  away  without  any  evident  consideration  of  the  case.  If, 
however,  there  was  reason  for  it,  he  would  set  about  his  task  of 
helping  with  amazing  devotion.  When  near  eighty  years  of  age, 
long  by  the  time  when  he  was  willing  to  undertake  any  surgical 
work,  he  found  himself  in  face  of  a  case  of  strangulated  hernia, 
when  to  save  the  life  an  immediate  operation  was  necessary. 
He  had  no  surgical  instruments  with  him,  but  he  at  once  and 


108  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

alone  etherized  the  patient  and  with  pen-knife  and  scissors  did 
an  entirely  successful  operation.  Although  by  thrift  and  sav- 
ing he  amassed  a  considerable  fortune,  becoming  as  usual  in 
such  work  somewhat  close,  he  held  obstinately  to  the  low 
charges  for  his  services,  which  were  half  a  century  ago  a  dollar 
for  office  advice,  two  dollars  for  a  visit,  and  a  like  moderate 
scale  for  obstetric  and  surgical  work.  Moreover,  he  was  given 
to  the  practice  of  refusing  any  compensation  from  people  in 
stress  for  money.  The  only  approach  to  a  quarrel,  in  the  forty 
years  of  our  intimacy,  was  on  an  occasion  when  he  asked  me  to 
tell  an  impecunious  colleague  of  mine  that  he  had  no  bill  to  pay 
for  the  long  and  devoted  services  rendered  him  in  a  grave  ill- 
ness. I  refused  to  do  this  on  the  ground  that  such  a  communi- 
cation should  not  pass  through  an  intermediary,  because  even 
that  slight  amount  of  publicity  would  offend  the  recipient  of 
the  charity.  After  a  time,  finding  that  it  was  the  curious  family 
shyness  that  ailed  the  kind  doctor,  and  that  the  matter  was 
weighing  on  him,  I  bore  his  message,  with  the  result  that  while 
the  sick  man  accepted  the  grace  it  broke  up  our  friendship. 
My  first  contact  with  Wyman  was  in  the  winter  of  1858-59, 
when  there  was  much  diphtheria  about.  Having  a  sore  throat, 
I  sent  for  him.  Knowing  that  he  was  a  busy  man,  and  as  it  was 
in  the  night,  I  had  ready  a  candle  and  a  spoon  which  I  handed 
him  as  soon  as  he  came  in.  He  looked  at  the  offending  throat, 
said  it  was  not  diphtheria,  remarked  that  I  had  been  well 
brought  up,  and  went  his  way  with  no  further  word.  When  I 
sought  him  to  pay  for  his  services,  he  said  that  there  was  no 
charge,  as  I  was  a  physician's  son.  He  had  apparently  inferred 
this  from  the  preparations  I  had  made  for  his  visit.  It  was  only 
when  I  explained  that  though  I  was  under  age,  I  was  supported 
by  money  which  had  come  to  me  from  generations  beyond  my 
father,  and  that  my  use  of  it  in  no  wise  affected  his  welfare,  that 
he  was  willing  to  take  his  fee.  The  acquaintance  thus  begun 
soon  ripened  into  friendship,  which  was  ever  a  support  and  in- 
spiration to  me.  His  advice  given  in  many  perplexities  was 


CHARLES  T.  JACKSON  109 

always  wise  and  inspired  by  a  wide-ranging  knowledge  of  men 
and  things.  He  was  the  very  type  of  that  best  of  all  groups  of 
men,  the  well-trained,  devoted  physician. 

A  third  brother  of  this  interesting  family,  Rufus  Wyman, 
was  personally  little  known  to  me,  for  he,  too,  shrank  from 
any  kind  of  publicity,  and  thus  was  hard  to  know.  Like  the 
others,  he  had  the  quality  of  devotion  to  his  fellow-men  with 
so  complete  a  willingness  to  put  aside  all  considerations  of  self 
that  he  never  saw  what  his  deeds  meant  in  terms  of  sacrifice. 
An  instance  of  this  came  to  my  attention,  when  an  invasion 
of  cholera  slew  a  number  of  people  in  Boston  and  Cambridge, 
among  them  Gould,  the  zoologist.  Rufus  Wyman  saw  several 
people  looking  at  a  house  on  the  other  side  of  Main  Street,  in 
Cambridgeport.  Asking  what  was  the  matter,  he  learned  that 
there  were  cases  of  cholera  there,  and  that  no  one  dared  to  go 
in.  He  went  at  once,  stayed  there  and  served  as  nurse  until 
death  or  recovery  made  his  help  no  longer  necessary. 

Next  to  Jeffries  and  Morrill  Wyman,  my  relations  were 
closest  with  Charles  T.  Jackson,  a  man  of  a  totally  different 
type;  in  fact,  he  and  the  noble  brothers  were  at  opposite  ends 
of  the  great  procession  of  my  time.  Jackson  was  a  man  of  un- 
common ability  and  of  wide  learning  in  chemistry  and  geology; 
most  willing  to  help  youths  to  their  advancement  but  with  an 
eager,  most  human,  often  pitiful  hunger  for  applause.  He  could 
not  rest  on  his  solid  accomplishments,  on  his  for  the  time  ex- 
cellent geological  work,  and  his  full  share  in  giving  the  greatest 
boon  ever  given  to  suffering  men  and  beasts,  but  he  must  have 
a  share  of  the  approval  of  his  fellows,  for  his  mental  digestion, 
so  to  speak,  with  every  meal.  Boston,  with  its  chariness  of 
praise  and  its  unreasoning  shallow  contempt  for  demonstrative 
persons,  afforded  him  no  outlet  for  his  great  talents,  which 
closely  verged  on  genius.  Had  he  lived  in  Paris,  where  a  per- 
sonality is  appreciated  for  what  it  is  worth,  and  not  in  the 
atmosphere  of  decaying  Puritanism,  where  he  was  stifled,  he 
would  have  won  a  great  place  for  himself,  and,  what  is  better, 


110     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

happiness.  From  Jackson,  whom  I  often  saw  at  his  house  and 
oftener  in  the  Society  of  Natural  History,  I  had  much  in  the 
way  of  information.  I  never  went  to  him  for  help  without  find- 
ing it,  but  my  errands  related  solely  to  matters  of  fact,  of  which 
he  had  a  great  store.  He  did  not  teach  sympathy  for  his  fel- 
lows, but  he  needed  it  overmuch  himself. 

Jackson  had  a  great  deal  of  divining  power,  with  a  limited 
amount  of  field  observation  —  he  was  not  zealous  of  seeing  - 
he  could  make  safer  inferences  than  any  geologist  I  have  ever 
known.  This  is  shown  in  his  work  on  the  Narragansett  Basin 
in  Massachusetts  and  Rhode  Island,  as  I  discovered  when  I  fol- 
lowed in  his  footsteps;  he  evidently  saw  but  little,  yet  he  cor- 
rectly inferred  the  principal  features  of  the  structure  of  that 
interesting  field.  I  have  measured  a  large  part  of  the  work 
accomplished  by  my  predecessors  in  this  country  and  have 
found  no  instance  where  a  difficult  interpretation  concerning 
the  underground  altitudes  of  a  series  of  strata  was  so  well  done 
as  in  his  report  on  this  region.  It  is,  so  far  as  I  have  learned, 
the  first  piece  of  work  in  which  a  great  syncline  was  adequately 
determined  from  only  limited  outcrops,  for  the  most  of  the  area 
is  covered  by  the  waters  of  the  great  inlet  known  as  Narragan- 
sett Bay.  The  constructive  imagination  which  led  him  to  fore- 
see the  value  of  the  anaesthetic  properties  of  ether,  was  clear  in 
all  his  geological  work  which  I  have  traced  in  the  field. 

My  contacts  with  Asa  Gray  were  limited;  he  and  Agassiz 
were  in  feud,  so  that  except  for  hearing  his  lectures  and  now 
and  then  a  word  concerning  some  plant  I  had  trouble  in  nam- 
ing, I  saw  but  little  of  him  until  after  I  had  become  a  teacher 
in  the  School.  Thenceforth  until  his  death  we  were  much  to- 
gether, for  my  grateful  acceptance  of  Darwinism  was  a  bond 
between  us,  as  was  also  my  general  interest  in  botanical  ques- 
tions. My  separation  from  him  in  the  earlier  days  was,  as  I  see 
it  now,  a  misfortune,  but  inevitable;  for  in  those  primitive  days 
when  the  students  in  the  Scientific  School  were  members  of 
warring  camps,  each  set  against  the  others,  in  a  desire  to  win 


JOSIAH  P.  COOKE  111 

this  or  that,  it  was  dangerous  for  a  student  to  be  seen  in  parley 
with  the  enemy,  and  the  leaders  were  not  supposed  to  have 
much  to  do  with  the  adversary's  recruits.  Coming  as  Agassiz 
did  as  a  foreigner,  successful  in  his  efforts  to  get  money  for  his 
large  purposes,  intense  and  outspoken  as  regards  the  ancient 
methods  of  teaching  in  the  College,  he  naturally  met  with  much 
opposition,  which  in  his  strong  way  he  did  not  conciliate  but 
overrode.  The  result  was  that  his  students  found  it  well  to 
herd  together  and  have  little  to  do  with  the  followers  of  the 
other  men.  This,  be  it  said,  was  not  true  in  the  case  of  Jeffries 
Wyman,  with  whom,  despite  incidental  frictions  as  in  the  case 
above  mentioned,  Agassiz  always  retained  friendly  relations; 
he  had  indeed  a  great  admiration  for  him.  The  fact  that  my 
master,  who  was  the  very  antithesis  of  Wyman,  understood 
and  valued  him,  showed  me  that  he  had  a  rare  capacity  for 
judging  men,  and  further  that  his  conflicts  with  others  were 
not  due,  as  some  thought,  to  his  grasping  desires. 

Although  in  the  curious  system  of  instruction  then  existing 
in  the  Scientific  School,  essentially  one  of  apprenticeship,  the 
students  of  geology  and  zoology  were  not  required  to  attend 
any  other  instruction,  I  went  to  certain  courses  of  lectures,  par- 
ticularly to  those  given  by  Josiah  P.  Cooke  in  chemistry  and  to 
those  of  James  Russell  Lowell  in  literature.  Cooke's  lectures 
and  experiments  —  there  was  no  formal  laboratory  work  — 
gave  an  excellent  outline  of  the  subject  as  it  was  then  known. 
At  first,  owing  to  a  certain  solemnity  of  speech  combined  with 
a  nervous  trembling  which  affected  his  voice  as  well  as  his  hands, 
he  made  a  somewhat  unpleasant  impression.  Yet  soon  his  ear- 
nestness, his  willingness  to  help  us  to  understand,  made  him 
valued  for  his  real  worth.  From  him  I  learned  a  little  of  chem- 
istry and  chemical  physics,  which  has  made  me  deplore  my  lack 
of  real  learning  in  that  vast  field. 

Outside  of  natural  science,  the  only  teacher  I  listened  to  in 
my  student  days  was  Lowell,  whose  lectures  I  attended  off  and 
on  for  three  years.  I  was  first  attracted  to  him  by  hearing  that 


112  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

he  was  to  lecture  on  Goethe,  at  that  time  an  object  of  my  wor- 
ship, since  unhappily  relegated  by  what  seems  to  me  to  be  a 
better  understanding  to  a  secondary  place,  both  as  a  humanist 
and  as  a  naturalist.  Lowell  was  then  a  fellow  worshipper  and 
that  led  me  to  hear  him  further.  There  was  to  me  a  peculiar 
fascination  in  his  quality,  though  I  did  not  then  nor  afterward 
when  we  were  colleagues  come  to  like  him.  As  I  saw  it,  he  was 
the  most  perfect  and  most  natural  poser  I  have  ever  known. 
This  acting  was  not  of  a  purpose,  he  appeared  to  try  to  hide  it 
even  from  himself,  by  contriving  a  garment  of  naturalness 
which  he  wore  cleverly,  but  it  did  not  hide  the  self -conscious- 
ness which  tormented  him.  As  I  learned  afterward,  he  had  a 
devouring  hunger  for  praise,  which  seemed  necessary  to  lift 
him  out  of  the  self-critical  humor  which  possessed  him.  While 
I  felt  this  defect  in  the  man  in  such  a  measure  that  at  times  it 
made  me  fairly  ache  to  look  at  him,  his  lectures  fascinated  me : 
he  gave  me  indeed  my  first  contact  with  a  man  of  high  literary 
quality,  with  something  of  true  genius  in  him.  He  read  his  lec- 
tures; they  smell  of  the  lamp,  but  he  read  them  admirably; 
some  of  them  stay  with  me  after  near  half  a  hundred  years. 
But  none  of  his  hearers  seemed  to  come  any  nearer  to  him  than 
I  did,  and  I  was  kept  at  a  distance.  Any  effort  to  get  with  him 
after  his  lectures  led  to  failure.  A  few  vague  polite  words  made 
it  plain  that  "those  who  did  not  leave  when  the  performance 
was  over  would  be  put  out  by  the  police." 

I  particularly  desired  to  know  Lowell,  for  I  had  a  hunger  for 
the  human  quality  that  he  knew,  at  least  historically,  so  well. 
I  desired  to  know  him  also  because  he  was  an  Abolitionist  and 
I  was  at  that  time  curious  as  to  the  state  of  mind  of  cultivated 
men  of  that  faith.  I  failed  in  this  latter  purpose  with  Lowell 
as  I  did  with  Edmund  Quincy,  the  only  other  strong  Anti- 
slavery  man  I  hoped  to  approach.  Quincy  was  my  father's 
classmate  and  they  for  certain  reasons  had  been  thrown  closely 
together,  but  he  made  it  plain  to  me  that  he  could  not  have 
relations  with  people  who  held  slaves  as  my  family  did.  This 


BENJAMIN  PEIRCE  113 

hint  was  so  tactfully  conveyed  that  I  was  neither  vexed  nor 
amused,  but  rather  grieved  at  his  preposterous  state  of  mind. 
Whenever  we  met  in  after  years,  the  dear  old  fellow  always 
greeted  me  with  a  certain  distinguished  consideration  such  as 
you  give  and  have  from  your  enemy  under  a  flag  of  truce.  I 
shall  have  more  to  say  of  this  curious  state  of  mind  of  the  Anti- 
slavery  people  further  on  in  this  narrative. 

Of  the  other  men  who  were  in  some  measure  my  teachers 
while  I  was  formally  a  pupil,  I  have  the  clearest  and  most  de- 
lightful memories  of  Benjamin  Peirce,  professor  of  mathematics 
and  astronomy.  I  was  never  in  his  classes,  —  they  were  re- 
served for  college  men,  —  but  whenever  there  was  a  lecture  to 
which  I  had  access  I  heard  him,  with  a  greedy  half -comprehen- 
sion. He  had  a  penetrating  mathematical  mind,  compounded 
with  a  vigorous  constructive  imagination.  I  recall  a  course  of 
lectures  by  him  in  which  he  dealt  with  a  confounding  variety 
of  subjects,  including  curves  and  billiards,  winding  up  with  a 
drawing  on  the  blackboard  to  which  as  a  finale  he  with  great 
effectiveness  pointed,  saying :  "  If  an  archangel  had  to  make  a 
universe  he  would  do  it  in  that  formula."  This  made  a  vast 
impression  on  my  mind  at  the  time;  it  was  long  after  that  I 
came  to  see  that  your  mathematical,  like  other  mills,  gives 
forth  no  more  than  you  put  into  it,  however  changed  in  shape 
the  product  may  be,  and  that  the  aforesaid  formula  held  no 
more  than  certain  human  concepts  of  energy,  matter,  and  law, 
so  that  even  an  archangel  would  find  it  a  task  to  make  any- 
thing whatever  out  of  them.  During  my  undergraduate  days 
my  relations  with  Peirce  were  limited,  partly  because  I  had  no 
adequate  preparation  to  follow  his  vast  excursions,  but  more 
for  the  reason  that  he  and  Agassiz  were  enemies,  with  occa- 
sional intermissions  of  loving  friendship,  and  as  in  the  case  of 
Gray  I  found  it  best  to  bide  with  my  own  lot.  After  I  became 
a  teacher,  our  relations  were  intimate  and  to  me  largely  profit- 
able in  wide  understandings. 

Among  those  who  came  to  Agassiz  with  the  broadening  of 


114  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

his  prospects  which  the  newly  founded  museum  gave,  were 
certain  men  who  were  in  some  measure  my  teachers.  First  of 
these  I  will  note  X.,  who  had  been  trained  by  the  master  as 
a  mineralogist  and  embryologist.  Although  he  was  a  man  of 
moderate  parts,  he  had  a  decided  capacity  for  the  work  as- 
signed to  him  and  taught  it  fairly  well.  From  him  I  gained  some 
skill  in  the  relatively  limited  knowledge  of  those  subjects  which 
existed  at  that  time,  but  no  inspiration  whatever.  He  was  sin- 
gularly affected  by  a  notion  that  he  was  a  genius  who  was  in 
process  of  being  discovered  by  Agassiz,  and  his  whole  mind  went 
to  securing  his  safety  from  that  appropriation.  While  I  saw 
that  there  was  some  slight  basis  for  this  idea,  it  was  clear  to 
me  then  as  now  that  when  a  great  and  naturally  avid  per- 
sonality comes  in  contact  with  a  subordinate  of  mediocre  tal- 
ents, such  a  result  is  in  some  measure  inevitable.  I  tried  to 
make  the  sufferer  see  that  for  the  ounce  of  value  he  gave  he 
received  a  pound  in  return,  but  it  was  not  in  him  to  see  it. 
Others  who  came  in  contact  with  Agassiz  suffered  from  the 
same  incapacity  to  understand  the  situation.  The  result  in  this 
case  was  a  break  which  led  to  X.'s  retirement  from  the  univer- 
sity, and  to  his  failure  as  a  worker  on  his  own  account,  which 
ended  in  his  death  a  few  years  afterwards. 

The  other  collaborator  of  Agassiz,  who  had  far  more  influ- 
ence on  my  life,  was  Jules  Marcou,  who  had  been  his  pupil, 
though  the  difference  in  their  ages  was  but  a  few  years.  Marcou 
had  already  made  a  place  for  himself  by  his  work  on  the  Meso- 
zoic  rocks  and  his  connection  with  the  Mexican  boundary  sur- 
vey. He  was  a  native  of  Salins  in  the  French  Jura,  but  he  had 
been  in  this  country  before  and  had  married  a  Boston  woman 
of  distinguished  family  and  considerable  fortune.  He  was  a 
characteristic  Frenchman,  of  the  especial  type  that  marks  the 
people  of  the  region  whence  he  came,  so  that  they  fit  rather  to 
our  notions  of  Swiss  than  of  French.  He  was  some  inches  over 
six  feet  in  height,  slender,  slightly  stooped,  with  a  handsome 
face  that  reminded  me  much  of  the  portrait  of  Leonardo  da 


JULES  MARCOU  115 

Vinci.  He  never  learned  to  speak  English  easily,  to  make  it  a 
second  mother  tongue  as  Agassiz  did,  and  at  that  time  his  use 
of  the  language  was  most  imperfect.  Partly  because  I  well 
understood  him  in  French,  but  rather  because  of  our  common 
interest  in  geology,  we  soon  came  together  and  were  long  near 
friendsf  He  was  the  first  real  geologist  with  whom  I  had  a  chance 
to  take  the  field,  and  from  him  in  1860  in  a  prolonged  excur- 
sion to  Gay  Head  on  Martha's  Vineyard/I  had  my  first  lesson 
in  actual  exploration  under  the  eyes  of  a  trained  man.  Unfor- 
tunately, Marcou,  though  versed  in  the  identification  of  hori- 
zons, had  no  sense  of  structural  geology;  so  I  was  in  no  wise 
helped  in  the  task  of  unravelling  the  complicated  tangle  of 
greatly  disturbed  strata  which  is  there  exhibited.  In  his  opin- 
ion the  folds  and  faults  which  are  evident  in  the  outcrop  were 
altogether  due  to  the  slipping  of  the  beds.  Though  these  land- 
slide movements  have  evidently  had  some  effect  in  producing 
the  tangle,  I  saw  at  the  end  of  a  week  of  work  that  this 
effect  was  but  slight,  and  that  other  influences  had  been  the 
main  source  of  the  complexity.  This  was  my  first  piece  of 
interpretation ;  it  brought  me  no  further  than  the  stage  of 
drilling,  yet  it  was  most  profitable*  /Nearly  thirty  years  after- 
ward, on  returning  to  the  inquiry  and  setting  about  it  with 
deliberation,  the  problem  was  solved. 

I  made  a  number  of  other  shorter  journeys  with  Marcou,  all 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Boston.  On  these  I  learned  from  him 
more  of  the  traditions  of  field  work  as  he  had  received  them 
from  the  various  experts  with  whom  he  had  been  in  contact. 
Yet  he  was  little  skilled  in  solving  the  riddles  of  geological 
structures  and  entirely  inattentive  to  the  meaning  of  physio- 
graphic forms.  But  as  in  that  day  few  cared  for  those  problems 
I  was  left  to  my  own  devices.  I  puzzled  out  some  things  in  the 
structure  of  the  Boston  Basin  by  much  footing  over  the  ground 
and  plotting  sections  and  the  dips  of  the  strata;  but  it  was 
years  after,  when  I  had  a  chance  of  help  from  the  Swiss  field 
workers,  before  I  obtained  any  command  of  the  methods  I 


116     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

needed  in  my  work.  Marcou's  main  influence  on  me  while  I 
was  a  student  came  through  his  great  knowledge  of  men  and 
their  deeds.  He  knew  the  work  of  the  leaders  of  the  science 
very  well,  and  his  intense  interest  in  people,  and  delight  in 
talking  about  them,  helped  me  to  get  the  traditions  of  the  sci- 
ence. To  him  and  afterwards  to  Lyell  I  owe  a  considerable 
amount  of  knowledge  of  what  geologists  have  done  and  their 
quality  not  only  as  men  of  science  but  as  men.  I  have  never 
found  any  one  else  so  rich  in  this  important  lore.  Jf 

In  1860  I  came  in  contact  with  the  brothers  Rogers,  William 
and  Henry,  then  famous  for  their  work  in  Virginia  and  Penn- 
sylvania. With  the  latter  of  these  able  men  my  personal  con- 
tacts were  limited,  but  I  heard  him  expound  his  theory  of 
mountain-building,  which  was  in  effect  that  mountains  were 
great  translation  waves  in  the  crust,  made  by  earthquakes, 
essentially  like  those  made  by  the  wind  on  the  surface  of  the 
sea,  which  had  been  arrested  in  their  forward  movement  and 
remained  as  it  were  frozen  as  we  now  find  them,  except  for  the 
changes  which  erosion  has  brought  about.  I  am  glad  to  say 
that  in  the  debates  on  this  hypothesis  in  our  club,  I  set  myself 
against  it,  on  the  ground  that  we  see  no  such  waves  attending 
earthquakes,  and  further  that  the  rocks  would  be  shattered  by 
such  movements  and  not  folded  as  we  find  them.  It  was  by  such 
debates  on  every  question  which  came  up  that  I  had  much  of 
the  best  training  of  my  undergraduate  time.  Probably  it  was 
this  proposition  of  Henry  D.  Rogers  that  fixed  my  interest  on 
mountain  structures  and  led  me  to  read  nearly  all  that  had 
been  written  on  the  subject. 

With  William  B.  Rogers,  as  he  had  married  in  Boston  and 
come  to  live  there,  my  relations  were  nearer  than  with  his  bro- 
ther Henry.  We  met  in  the  Society  of  Natural  History,  where, 
as  above  noted,  I  was  wont  to  contrive  debates  between  him 
and  Agassiz.  I  can  see  before  me  now  the  noble  shape  and 
brilliant  countenance  of  my  master,  as  he  eagerly,  often  in- 
cautiously, set  forth  his  hypothesis,  while  Rogers,  keen-faced 


AGASSIZ  AND  WILLIAM  B.  ROGERS          117 

and  alert,  prepared  himself  for  his  attack.  When  his  turn  came, 
with  an  odd  gesture  by  which  he  seemed  to  turn  his  eagle  eyes 
"hard  aport,"  he  would  launch  on  a  task  of  mingled  criticism 
and  construction,  in  both  of  which  he  was  most  effective.  While 
it  was  on,  the  contrivers  of  the  fracas  would  rejoice  in  the  profit 
of  it;  it  was  always  large.  They  were  both  game-cocks, so  that 
on  a  higher  plane  I  had  once  again  the  pleasure  of  my  boy- 
hood in  watching  their  evolutions.  Much  came  to  us  from 
these  debates. 

It  was  well  known  even  to  Agassiz's  students  that  Rogers 
desired  to  have  a  place  in  Harvard  College  as  professor  of  geo- 
logy. He  was  admirably  well  fitted  for  this  position,  a  man  of 
distinguished  general  ability,  well  informed  in  the  science  and 
an  admirable  teacher.  Agassiz  was  at  once  professor  of  zoology 
and  geology,  though  I  believe  that  I  was  the  only  person  who 
ever  took  the  degree  in  geology  while  he  taught  at  Harvard, 
and  I  had  mainly  to  depend  on  outside  help  and  fight  hard  for 
my  training.  It  was  not  indeed  until,  after  graduating,  I  spent 
two  years  in  Europe  and  there  had  the  help  of  half  a  dozen 
able  teachers  that  I  felt  fairly  well  grounded  on  the  dynamic 
side  of  the  science;  my  training  having  been  mainly  biological. 
Large-minded  as  my  master  was  in  most  of  his  contacts  with 
men,  he  could  not  be  persuaded  to  allow  Rogers  beside  him. 
Presuming,  it  may  be,  on  our  relations,  which  had  become  rather 
those  of  man  with  man  than  pupil  with  teacher,  I  tried  to  de- 
bate the  proposition  with  him,  only  to  find  that  it  was  not 
debatable.  It  was  a  pity,  for  from  this  refusal  to  give  him  the 
place  in  the  School  to  which  he  was  entitled  by  his  quality  and 
station,  Rogers  was  in  a  way  compelled  to  turn  his  energy  to 
the  creation  of  a  rival  institution,  the  Massachusetts  Institute 
of  Technology,  with  the  result  that  Boston  supports  two  rival 
schools  in  a  field  which  has  fair  place  for  but  one. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

SOME  COLLEGE  COMPANIONS 

NEXT  to  the  elder  men,  my  teachers,  in  the  subjects  which  in- 
terested me,  I  have  to  rank  as  helpers  a  number  of  persons 
also  a  generation  in  advance  of  me  who  were  only  incidentally 
my  instructors.  Of  these,  two  or  three  were  in  the  entourage 
of  Agassiz.  One  of  them  was  Hansen,  a  Swede  who  served  as 
a  translator  of  Scandinavian  languages,  Russian,  or  any  other 
foreign  tongue  save  Latin,  Greek,  French,  or  German,  which 
we  were  expected  to  deal  with  as  best  we  might.  He  was  a  very 
interesting  fellow,  this  Hansen,  a  huge  blond  Viking,  with  a 
rare  spirit  in  him.  A  lover  of  music  and  poetry,  good  at  a  song, 
mingling  gayly  his  age  with  our  youths,  all  the  day  he  was 
merry,  but  at  night  he  had  the  most  frightful  dreams.  His  room 
was  next  to  mine,  and  very  often  I  had  to  go  to  his  bed  and 
wrestle  him  to  consciousness.  His  visitations  had  a  demoniacal 
fury  and  brought  him  a  torment  I  have  never  known  the  like 
of.  When  awakened  he  was  in  a  state  of  sorrow  that  wrung 
our  hearts,  but  quickly  he  would  cast  his  woe  aside  and  be 
his  merry  self  again.  Gradually  I  learned  from  his  unconscious 
speech,  what  I  confirmed  long  afterwards  from  a  person  who 
knew  his  history,  that  his  wife  and  children  had  been  burned 
to  death  before  his  eyes.  The  daytime  valor  of  this  man  taught 
me  much. 

We  had  as  keeper  of  our  club-house  an  interesting  Scotch- 
man, by  the  name  of  William  Glenn,  who  was  a  preparator  in 
the  Museum.  Though  a  mechanic,  he  had  been  much  about 
museums  and  had  known  many  naturalists  in  Great  Britain. 
He  was,  moreover,  a  disputatious  philosopher  of  rather  wide 
reading  in  the  Scotch  school,  concerning  which  we  had  endless 
debates.  Glenn's  wife,  an  attractive  lower-class  elderly  Scotch- 


UNIVERSITY 

OF 


FOLEY  OF  KENTUCKY  119 

woman,  was  our  housekeeper,  an  efficient  matron  of  the  young 
men  who  lodged  in  the  hall,  marvellously  bitter  of  tongue,  but 
full  of  motherly  goodness.  This  couple  interested  me  greatly, 
and  we  became  near  friends.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  they  did 
not  find  favor  with  the  other  youngsters ;  so  they  fared  ill,  their 
life  being  made  a  burthen  by  certain  reprobates  of  the  rather 
ill-conditioned  society. 

Of  the  students  who  were  with  Agassiz,  few  of  them  became 
my  friends,  though  I  kept  on  good  enough  terms  with  all  of 
them.  At  first,  I  was  intimately  associated  with  one  of  them 
from  my  part  of  Kentucky,  whom  I  had  known  a  bit  in  boy- 
hood. So  we  naturally  came  at  once  together  for  the  months 
before  the  club  was  set  up  in  the  Hall.  We  spent  our  evenings 
together,  alternating  in  each  other's  rooms.  Foley  being  by 
two  or  three  years  my  elder  and  a  masterful  man,  a  while  he 
was  the  leader  of  our  doings.  He  was  the  most  perfect  speci- 
men of  a  physical  man  I  have  ever  known :  six  feet,  two  inches 
high,  evenly  built,  weighing  about  two  hundred  pounds,  and 
as  nimble  as  a  cat.  After  the  manner  of  his  Kentucky  kind,  he 
was  a  born  fighter,  rejoicing  in  battle  in  a  most  amicable  way 
—  whacking  seemed  to  warm  his  heart.  The  memory  of  him 
always  reminds  me  of  somebody's  picture  of  a  gentleman  in 
line  of  battle :  — 

And  now  he  hummed  a  snatch  of  song:  and  now  he  smote  a  knave. 

Foley  bred  about  him  an  atmosphere  of  combat  which  led  the 
toughs  of  all  the  neighborhood  to  try  their  hands  on  him.  Look- 
ing one  summer  evening  from  my  window,  I  saw  him  coming 
up  the  street.  As  he  passed  through  the  hedge  two  men  jumped 
at  him ;  in  a  flash  he  had  knocked  them  down ;  straightway  he 
picked  them  up  and  threw  them  over  the  hedge  into  the  street, 
the  whole  process  taking  less  than  ten  seconds.  Then  he  came 
up  to  my  room  as  if  nothing  unusual  had  happened.  To  my 
question  as  to  who  the  chaps  were,  he  said, "  Dunno;  never  saw 
them  before,"  and  made  no  further  reference  to  them. 


120     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

Beginning  with  the  occupancy  of  Zoological  Hall  as  a  club- 
house, Foley  was  for  some  months  my  chum.  We  got  on  well 
together.  He  tried  his  best  to  take  on  studious  ways  and  showed 
no  little  ability,  so  that  the  master  had  great  hopes  for  his 
future,  but  fighting  —  and  what  goes  with  it  —  was  too  much 
for  him.  Some  of  his  feats  were  in  their  time  famous.  One  mid- 
night he  came  home  with  a  policeman's  coat  and  billy  under 
his  arm.  A  huge  member  of  the  force  known  as  the  "Infant 
Hayes"  had  tried  to  arrest  him,  merely  to  be  laid  down  and 
stripped  of  his  uniform  and  club,  which  were  returned  the  next 
day  with  Foley's  compliments  and  address.  Naturally,  the 
vanquished  giant  held  his  peace.  About  the  same  time,  coming 
out  from  Boston  on  the  well-remembered  "last  car"  of  those 
days,  he  was  set  upon  by  a  party  of  roughs ;  he  kicked  them  off, 
and  not  liking  the  behavior  of  the  conductor  and  driver  he 
kicked  them  off  also.  He  then  drove  the  car  to  the  stables,  ex- 
plaining that  the  men  had  stopped  in  the  "Port"  and  would  be 
up  shortly.  As  my  chum  was  never  ill-humored  or  unfair,  and 
especially  as  he  was  never  vanquished,  he  became  a  privileged 
character,  the  idol  of  the  gentlemanly  and  other  villains  of 
eastern  Massachusetts.  In  six  months  I  found  the  association 
unprofitable ;  so  in  all  friendliness  we  dissolved  partnership  and 
he  lodged  elsewhere.  At  the  end  of  the  year,  he  left  the  School, 
to  become  afterward  a  distinguished  officer  of  cavalry  in  the 
Union  service.  He  stays  in  my  memory  as  the  best  type  of  his 
class  I  have  ever  known. 

My  next  chum  was  Alpheus  Hyatt  of  Maryland,  a  man  of  dif- 
ferent quality  from  Foley.  He,  too,  was  much  my  senior,  and 
had  a  large  place  in  my  life.  Although  my  experiences  had  been 
wider  than  his,  he  earlier  developed  maturity  of  mind ;  in  fact, 
at  nineteen  I  looked  up  to  him,  then  about  twenty-two,  as  an 
ancient.  He  had  attained  to  a  perfectly  definite  theory  of  life, 
while  I  was  still  an  explorer.  I  well  remember  his  arraignment 
of  me  as  a  dreamer  and  a  vagarist  who  would  drift  through  life 
doing  what  the  moment  bade  me  do,  with  no  sense  of  a  definite 


ALPHEUS  HYATT  121 

goal,  such  as  he  had  set  for  himself.  I  felt  that  much  of  his 
denunciation  was  well  founded  —  somehow  I  never  cared  for 
goals,  —  the  mileposts  have  proved  more  interesting  to  me. 
What  I  had  absorbed  of  philosophy,  and  had  insensibly  shaped 
into  a  plan  of  life,  made  me  interested  in  thinking  and  doing 
for  their  own  sakes  and  not  for  those  accomplishments  which 
bred  fame.  On  this,  as  on  most  other  matters,  we  had  endless 
profitable  quarrels,  such  as  lead  to  firm  friendship.  We  were 
together  for  a  year,  when  we  concluded  that  we  were  both 
naturally  solitaries,  and  he  moved  to  Divinity  Hall  just  across 
the  way.  We  parted  to  be  even  better  friends  and  more  helpful 
to  each  other  than  before.  The  bond  lasted  until  his  death  in 
1902. 

After  Hyatt  left  me  I  had  no  permanent  chum.  For  a  time 
Leslie  Waggener,  another  Kentuckian,  who  was  a  student  in 
the  College,  lodged  with  me,  and  we  were  very  near  to  one  an- 
other until  he  graduated  (in  1861)  and  went  directly  to  the 
Confederate  army.  The  first  Confederate  uniform  I  saw,  he  had 
made  in  Boston  and  donned  for  our  diversion  just  before  he 
went  away,  he  knowing  that  Hyatt  and  I  were  soon  to  be  his 
official  enemies.  We  thought  nothing  of  this  incident  at  the 
time,  but  seen  across  the  years  I  see  the  pathos  of  it. 

Waggener's  name  reminds  me  of  another  friend  of  those 
years ;  the  reason  for  the  reminder  I  shall  tell  below.  This  other 
was  Philip  Sidney  Coolidge,  a  grandson  of  Thomas  Jefferson. 
I  met  Coolidge  when  I  first  came  to  Cambridge.  We  ate  at  the 
same  table,  and  though  he  was  some  six  or  eight  years  my 
senior  we  soon  became  intimate.  He  was  then  an  assistant  in 
the  Observatory.  The  common  ground  was,  as  I  recall  it,  a 
common  longing  for  the  width  of  the  world.  I  have  seen  much 
of  men,  but  never  another  who  was  as  curiously  interesting  as 
this  son  of  an  ancient  and  staid  Boston  family.  Coolidge  was 
brought  up  in  France,  and  spoke  his  English  with  a  French  ac- 
cent, for  which  misfortune  he  berated  his  forbears  who  were 
responsible  for  it.  He  was  a  rather  small,  delicate  person,  with 


122  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

a  soldierly  courage,  with  a  gentle  pale  face,  and  a  large  nose 
adorned  with  eye-glasses.  Though  soldierly  in  bearing,  —  he 
had  been  trained  at  a  French  military  school,  —  he  seemed  to 
be  physically  a  somewhat  weak  person.  I  was  sufficiently 
experienced  not  to  mistake  that  ancient  sign  of  danger,  the 
woman's  look.  He  had  led  a  strangely  roving  adventurous  life 
as  a  soldier  in  the  Franco-Italian-Austrian  War  of  1859,  as 
engineer  of  a  revolution  in  Mexico,  and  as  a  member  of  a  gov- 
ernment exploring  expedition  on  the  Pacific.  He  had  roamed 
about  afoot  in  various  terrestrial  wilds  and  was  seeking  celes- 
tial realms.  Even  then  I  knew  something  of  Sir  Philip  and 
fancied  in  my  friend  there  was  something  of  his  famous  name- 
sake: a  like  interior  of  valor,  with  a  like  outward  insufficiency 
or  what  the  unobservant  take  for  such. 

One  short  story  will  tell  more  of  Coolidge's  quality  than  all 
my  inadequate  description.  I  had  been  reading  some  book  of 
travel  in  China,  and,  in  the  manner  of  a  youth,  was  airing  my 
knowledge  in  the  talk  that  went  round  at  our  boarding-house 
table.  I  had  spoken  of  the  northern  Chinaman  as  a  well-devel- 
oped man,  saying  he  would  average  a  certain  height  —  what- 
ever it  was  in  the  book.  A  chap  questioned  my  statement. 
Knowing  Coolidge  had  been  in  China,  I  asked  his  opinion.  He 
assumed  that  he  thought  the  estimate  was  right.  The  caviller 
said,  "  I  should  like  to  know,  sir,  what  foundation  you  have  for 
your  opinion";  having  for  answer,  "I  saw  a  hundred  of  them 
beheaded,  and  I  measured  them  afterwards."  I  have  heard 
sundry  "sockdologers,"  but  this  was  the  most  perfect  of  all, 
quite  ideal  in  its  efficiency.  At  the  moment,  and  for  long  after- 
ward, I  supposed  that  the  statement  was  an  invention  well  con- 
trived to  silence  the  troublesome  fellow —  so  indeed  all  probably 
took  it.  But  thirty  years  afterward,  on  telling  it  at  my  own 
table,  as  a  sample  of  apt  invention,  another  friend  said,  "  That 
statement  was  no  invention;  I  saw  Coolidge  do  it."  He  went 
on  to  explain  that  they  together  had  witnessed  the  execution, 
and  that  when  it  was  over  Coolidge,  with  a  curious  fancy  for 


A  STORY  OF  THE  WAR  123 

exact  fact  which  marks  the  true  idealist  as  distinguished  from 
the  mere  dreamer,  had,  with  the  permission  of  the  authorities, 
proceeded  with  his  measurements.  Some  time  after  the  Civil 
War  began,  Coolidge  found  his  place  as  Major  of  the  Sixteenth 
Infantry  of  the  Union  army.  At  Chickamauga  he  commanded 
the  regiment  and,  holding  his  place  when  the  line  broke,  was 
killed.  So  I  needs  must  go  forward  ten  years  and  complete  here 
the  story  of  my  Philip  Sidney's  end. 

From  a  captured  officer  who  was  not,  as  I  remember  him, 
from  his  regiment,  I  learned  shortly  after  the  battle  of  Chicka- 
mauga that  Waggener  had  been  killed  on  that  field.  My  in- 
formant had  seen  him  dead  upon  the  ground  at  the  close  of  the 
action.  As  was  the  way  in  those  days,  I  bade  him  farewell  with 
but  a  fanciful  grief  and  thought  little  more  about  him.  In  1874, 
being  then  state  geologist,  I  happened  to  be  in  Kentucky.  It 
came  to  my  mind  that  my  friend  was  from  that  place,  and  that 
he  had  kindred  there.  With  this  memory  came  a  grief  for  his 
loss  I  had  not  felt  before.  Thus  moved,  it  occurred  to  me  to 
seek  his  family.  I  was  directed  where  to  find  some  of  them,  and 
set  out  for  the  place.  On  the  way,  I  encountered  a  man  whose 
shape  led  me  to  say,  "Sir,  are  you  a  kinsman  of  Leslie  Wag- 
gener?" To  which  he  answered, "  That's  my  name,  sir."  "  But," 
I  said,  "the  Leslie  Waggener  I  have  in  mind  was  killed  at  Chick- 
amauga." "  No,"  he  rejoined,  "  he  was  n't  killed,  though  he  was 
left  as  dead.  There's  no  other  Leslie  Waggener  and  never  has 
been."  While  I  silently  stared  at  him,  for  once  in  my  life  quite 
nonplussed,  he  in  turn  said,  "You  look  like  Nat  Shaler."  I  told 
him  that  was  my  name,  but  as  if  repeating  my  words,  he  said, 

"The  fellow  I  mean  was  killed  at  Stone  River;  Jim ,  who 

knew  him  well,  saw  him  lying  dead."  I  answered  him  that  there 
were  two  good  reasons  why  that  was  n't  true;  first,  that  I  was 
not  at  Stone  River,  and,  second,  that  I  was  very  much  alive.  At 
this  stage  of  our  strange  business,  we  sat  down  on  a  box  in  front 
of  a  store  and  gaped  at  one  another.  The  odd  part  of  it  was, 
as  we  afterward  remarked,  that  there  was  in  our  hearts  no  trace 


124  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

of  our  old  mutual  affection.  The  situation  was  almost  disgust- 
ingly odd.  Each  had  long  accepted  the  other  as  dead  and  the 
sometime  love  did  not  find  its  way  back.  Waggener  was  the 
first  to  recover  his  balance  enough  to  start  conversation.  He 
began  by  asking  me  something  about  Coolidge,  who  was  killed 
at  Chickamauga.  Then  he  told  me  the  reason  for  his  question. 
The  story  ran  as  follows.  Waggener  was  with  the  force  that 
broke  the  Federal  line  where  the  Sixteenth  Infantry  was  sta- 
tioned; as  the  shattered  remnant  went  back,  he  saw  Coolidge 
standing  in  his  place  with  the  point  of  his  sword  up,  making 
what  the  soldiers  called  a  "defy."  Waggener  recognized  him, 
knew  that  his  signal  of  no  surrender  would  quickly  lead  to  his 
being  shot,  and  ran  toward  him.  When  he  was  a  few  score  feet 
away,  he  was  himself  shot,  and  did  not  recover  consciousness 
for  some  days  thereafter.  I  should  hesitate  to  tell  this  improb- 
able story  but  for  the  fact  that  I  wrote  down  what  passed  at 
that  strange  meeting.  It  should  be  said  that  the  dead  friend- 
ship between  Waggener  and  myself  quickly  revived  and  lasted 
to  the  end  of  his  beautiful  life,  in  1896.  He  became  President 
of  the  University  of  Texas,  but  was  finally  borne  down  by  the 
wound  he  received  while  trying  to  save  his  friend  from  the  death 
he  strangely  sought. 

Last  of  the  list  of  those  students  with  whom  I  was  intimate, 
and  on  some  accounts  the  nearest  to  me,  I  name  George  Emer- 
son. He  was  not  of  Agassiz's  lot,  but  was  engaged  in  chemistry 
under  Horsford  and  mineralogy  with  Cooke.  He  came  about  the 
time  I  did;  and  though  he  was  my  elder  by  several  years,  he 
soon  became  a  near  friend ;  along  with  Hyatt  he  was,  until  the 
time  of  parting,  in  the  centre  of  my  life.  Probably  the  bond 
between  us  was  in  part  due  to  his  delicate  health  and  to  the  care 
I  felt  called  on  to  give  him.  He  already  had  tuberculosis,  and 
was,  as  I  saw,  doomed  to  a  speedy  death.  Emerson  had  the 
quality  which  has  gone  with  many  of  his  name  whom  I  have 
known.  Of  all  the  youths  of  my  time  he  was  in  spirit  the  near- 
est to  the  front.  The  fact,  well  known  to  himself,  as  well  as  to 


GEORGE  EMERSON  125 

us,  that  he  was  soon  to  die,  may  have  had  much  to  do  with  his 
journeys  to  the  spaces ;  but  this  sense  of  the  finish  did  not  make 
him  sorrowful ;  as  the  phrase  has  it,  he  "  burned  his  own  smoke." 
I  doubt  if  there  was  much  to  burn,  for  his  was  a  brave  soul.  In 
shape  he  was  small,  rather  shrunken,  —  for  the  malady  clutched 
him  in  his  adolescence,  —  but  he  had  the  Caesar  nose,  that  cleav- 
ing prow  of  a  nose  which  is  the  only  feature  of  the  face  which 
in  my  experience  tells  of  true  valor. 

I  talked  much  of  high  things  with  Emerson  in  our  rooms  in 
Cambridge  and  our  walks  about  the  town.  He  could  not  range 
far,  for  his  breath  was  scant;  but  I  was  glad  to  go  slowly  with 
him  and  to  rest  often,  for  we  always  went  far  in  these  short 
farings.  We  were  most  together  on  the  occasions,  rather  fre- 
quent, when  he  took  me  to  his  home  in  Greenfield,  in  the  Con- 
necticut valley.  Here  he  had  some  property  and  a  lot  of  inter- 
esting people,  his  kindred  and  friends.  My  memory  of  those 
good  folk  is  now  faint,  save  for  the  abiding  impression  that  they 
were  living  the  quiet,  deep,  unsignifying  life  of  the  New  Eng- 
lander,  that  Puritanic  life  so  different  from  the  housetop-shout- 
ing mode  of  living  I  had  been  accustomed  to.  One  of  these  fig- 
ures is  still  vivid  —  that  of  an  old  gentleman  with  a  soldierly 
figure  and  a  noble  face,  who  had  been  much  about  the  world, 
having  spent  long  years  in  India  amid  rich  experiences.  This 
dear  man  was  mildly  insane,  and  because  of  his  occasional  per- 
turbations shunned  by  the  people  of  the  town,  even  by  his  kin- 
dred. I  was  accustomed  to  deal  with  such  unfortunates,  be- 
cause in  the  community  where  I  began  the  task  of  dealing  with 
neighbors,  his  like  were  allowed  to  go  about  getting  what  they 
could  from  human  intercourse,  and  their  capers  were  looked 
upon  as  amusing.  So  I  took  many  long  walks  with  this  sturdy 
madman,  and  greatly  enjoyed  what  he  gave  me  from  his  ample 
store  of  memory  and  the  simple  kindly  philosophy  which  was 
mingled  with  it.  When  once  in  an  hour  or  so  he  would  "fly 
off  the  handle,"  I  would  not  notice  the  aberration,  but  steer 
him  back  to  himself  with  some  question  concerning  his  experi- 


126     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

ences  in  the  far  East;  once  back  into  his  reminiscences  of  his 
sane  life,  he  would  run  on  for  a  while,  a  most  delightful  com- 
panion. The  dear  fellow  soon  saw  the  way  I  managed  to  keep 
hold  of  his  sound  remainder,  and  his  dumb  gratitude,  told  in 
look  and  tone  in  the  way  only  the  gentle  soul  can  tell  it,  moves 
me  as  I  write  these  lines.  I  have  long  forgotten  his  name,  but 
his  face  stays  with  me,  the  brave  face  of  a  man  who  was  fight- 
ing to  save  his  remnant  from  the  deep,  so  that  I  would  know 
it  at  a  glance  if  it  came  again  to  view. 

The  last  time  I  was  with  Emerson  over  a  Sunday  at  Green- 
field, —  it  must  have  been  in  the  autumn  of  1861,  —  we  talked 
over  the  matter  of  his  end,  which  was  then  evidently  not  far 
off.  His  regret  seemed  to  be  not  for  the  early  passing  of  his  life, 
but  for  the  failure  of  his  plans  for  work  that  would  remain  un- 
done. He  turned  to  the  disposition  of  his  little  patrimony,  some 
twenty  thousand  dollars,  which  he  desired  to  leave  for  scholar- 
ships in  the  Scientific  School,  to  which  he  was  attached  by  the 
sense  of  its  large  purposes  and  certain  future,  but  he  desired  to 
mingle  his  care  for  the  unknown  with  benefaction  to  those  who 
had  been  near  to  him  by  giving  a  life  estate  on  his  property 
to  H.  or  myself.  It  was  decided  that  it  should  be  H.,  who  had 
least  in  the  way  of  expectations.  So  it  was  thus  arranged.  Our 
mutual  friend  had  the  benefit  of  the  trust  until  his  death  thirty 
years  after  Emerson  passed.  That  the  money,  which  now  helps 
to  support  poor  students  in  the  University,  will  perpetuate 
George  Emerson's  name  for  ages  is  my  hope.  All  else  of  him, 
the  infinite  eke  of  his  great  nature,  the  world  will  never  know. 

I  never  saw  Emerson  after  our  last  meeting  in  Greenfield, 
but  in  the  autumn  of  1862  I  had  a  letter  from  him  which  came 
to  me  in  active  campaign  while  Bragg  was  in  Kentucky,  in 
which  he  told  me  that  his  disease  was  making  progress,  that  he 
could  not  die  in  peace  with  the  sense  that  Hyatt  and  I  were  in 
the  lines,  and  he  crawling  about  his  home.  He  begged  me  to  find 
for  him  the  chance  to  stand  up  for  a  punch  in  the  good  cause. 
I  took  time  to  write  him  that  this  was  impossible ;  that  it  needed 


RICHARD  WHEATLAND  127 

all  of  a  well  man's  strength  to  keep  one's  feet  long  enough  to  take 
the  stroke;  and  that  he  would  add  one  more  to  our  cumbered 
hospitals.  I  never  heard  from  him  again;  after  this  last  lashing 
out  against  fate,  he  sank  into  the  repose  that  usually  comes  to 
those  who  die  of  consumption,  and  passed  quickly. 

One  of  my  neighbors,  rather  than  comrades,  of  Agassiz's  train, 
was ,  an  interesting  fellow  who  went  about  his  tasks  nim- 
bly and  merrily,  but  with  an  utterly  commonplace  motive  which 
made  him  quite  uninteresting  to  our  small  hyperphilosophical 
coterie.  He  was  of  my  age  to  a  year,  but  seemed  to  me  hope- 
lessly young,  I  suppose  for  lack  of  the  aforesaid  philosophy. 
Had stuck  to  zoology  he  would  have  made  a  great  dis- 
sector of  species,  for  he  took  to  that  dismal  task  as  a  duck  does 
to  water.  Withal  he  was  frolicsome ;  he  played  a  large  part  in  the 
rackets  which  went  on  in  our  hall  and  was  much  in  society, 
where  his  eminent  physical  beauty  made  him  welcome.  At  the 
first  tap  of  the  war  drum,  he  was  away  and  by  the  time  he  was 
twenty-two  he  commanded  a  brigade.  I  have  heard  it  said  that 
he  was  the  youngest  man  in  the  service  to  earn  a  star  for  his 
shoulder.  In  1865  he  found  no  place  in  the  regular  army,  but 
fell  into  avocations  where  he  won  no  credit  and  died.  It  is  the 
fashion  to  say  that  arms  make  a  man  fit  for  citizenship ;  that  is 
in  some  measure  true  of  the  material  which  finds  a  place  in  the 
ranks ;  in  my  experience  it  is  quite  otherwise  with  youths  of  the 
higher  order  there.  In  our  Civil  War  the  effect  was  usually  de- 
structive of  purpose,  and  the  training  that  fits  man  for  it. 

There  were  two  men  much  older  than  my  set  who  were  to  be 
connected  with  Agassiz's  pupils  who  gave  me  a  share  of  their 
store,  William  Stimpson  and  Richard  Wheatland.  Wheatland 
was  a  Salem  man  who  came  often  to  the  laboratory  and  at 
times  worked  with  us  for  months,  then  would  be  away,  —  for  he 
too  was  a  consumptive,  as  were  so  many  of  the  better  sort  in 
those  ancient  days.  From  him  I  had  a  sense  of  the  fundamental 
measurement  of  the  real  Puritan  stock  of  the  Salem  Colony; 
through  his  eyes  I  first  saw  past  the  appalling  solemnity  which 


128     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

marked  the  real  nature  of  the  Yankee  life.  He  had  not  much  to 
give,  but  he  revealed  to  me  that  things  were  "not  as  deep  as  a 
well  nor  as  wide  as  a  church  door";  and  this  gift  helped  much 
to  reconcile  me  to  a  society  which,  seen  on  its  face,  was  to  one 
of  my  breeding  by  no  means  inviting.  He  soon  passed  out  of 
my  sight,  but  not  from  memory,  which  holds  him  dear.  His 
was  the  common  fate  of  Yoricks  —  to  be  forgotten  before  they 
are  dust;  in  certain  ways,  high  ways,  they  are  the  best  of  their 
times,  but  because  a  laugh  cannot  be  perpetuated,  they  fall  into 
quick  forgetfulness,  or  at  best  they  have  an  echo  in  the  hearts 
of  those  who  knew  them. 

William  Stimpson  was  a  naturalist  of  no  mean  capacity.  If 
he  had  not  been  turned  to  species-describing,  a  task  akin  to 
"gerund  grinding,"  he  would  have  come  to  largeness.  As  it 
was,  his  keen  interest  in  animals  of  all  kinds,  his  real  love  for 
them,  made  him  something  much  better  than  his  printed  work. 
It  was  his  affection  for  creatures  as  well  as  his  general  wit  that 
quickly  brought  us  together.  Stimpson  was  much  my  senior, 
probably  by  ten  years  or  more.  He  had  rather  cut  loose  from 
Agassiz,  for  he  had  a  fierce  independence  of  spirit  which  did  not 
allow  him  to  profit  by  mastery.  Yet  he  now  and  then  worked  in 
the  laboratory,  at  that  time  on  molluscs.  We  used  to  debate 
the  Darwinian  hypothesis  privately,  for  to  be  caught  at  it  was 
as  it  is  for  the  faithful  to  be  detected  in  a  careful  study  of  a 
heresy.  We  had  both  read  the  "  Vestiges  of  the  Natural  History 
of  Creation,"  Lamarck's  "Philosophic  Zoologique,"  and  first 
the  Darwin- Wallace  papers  and  then  the  newly  published  "  Ori- 
gin of  Species."  Agassiz  had  given  a  large  part  of  his  lectures 
in  one  term  to  denouncing  these  works,  and  to  the  assertion 
that  species  were  absolute  creations.  He  never  even  suggested 
how  the  special  creation  came  about,  and  when,  at  the  end  of 
a  lecture,  I  pressed  him  for  some  conception  of  how  a  species 
first  appeared,  he  stated  that  it  was  a  "  thought  of  God,"  thereby 
showing  the  curious  mysticism  which  lay  at  the  foundation  of 
his  nature.  The  logic  of  these  views  bothered  Stimpson  less  than 


WILLIAM  STIMPSON  129 

it  did  me,  because  he  was  a  man  of  facts  and  not  fancies.  He 
was  puzzled  by  the  transitional  varieties  between  many  of  the 
species  of  molluscs  he  was  studying,  especially  those  occurring 
among  the  freshwater  gasteropods.  On  one  occasion  I  saw  him 
throw  one  of  these  vexatious  shapes  on  the  floor,  after  he  had 
studied  it  for  a  long  time,  put  his  heel  upon  it  and  grind  it  to 
powder,  remarking,  "That's  the  proper  way  to  serve  a  damned 
transitional  form." 


CHAPTER  IX 

CRUISING  AND  CAMPING 

MY  first  experience  with  dredging  was  with  Stimpson  in  the 
summer  of  1860  along  the  coast  of  Maine.  This  art  of  searching 
the  bottom  was  then  in  its  infancy,  but  what  there  was  of  it  he 
knew  well  by  much  very  intelligent  practice.  We  never  worked 
at  a  greater  depth  than  about  a  hundred  fathoms,  and  at  that 
depth,  by  using  a  large  sand-boat,  drifting  with  the  strong  tides ; 
practically  all  our  work  was  in  the  lateral  belt.  It  was  in  general 
our  practice  to  use  a  rowboat  with  a  sail  to  get  to  and  from  our 
ground ;  but  we  trusted  to  our  oars  for  dragging  the  apparatus 
over  the  bottom,  two  of  us  pulling  while  the  third  —  Hyatt 
was  with  us  for  a  time,  and  for  the  rest  a  boatman  —  "tended 
dredge."  Since  he  was  not  strong,  having,  like  so  many  others, 
consumption,  Stimpson  did  little  of  the  pulling,  so  that  I  had  a 
season  of  hard  work,  enlivened  and  more  than  repaid  by  the  joy 
of  the  deep  and  its  riches.  I  well  remember  the  enthusiasm  with 
which  Stimpson  would  greet  a  good  haul.  When  the  dredge 
came  up  well-laden,  it  was  his  custom  to  drink  to  it  in  rum  which 
was  always  aboard,  and  of  which  he  partook  greatly.  Filling  a 
glass,  he  would  dextrously  stand  with  one  foot  on  either  side  of 
the  boat,  swaying  with  it  as  he  sang :  — 

"I  was  born  upon  the  water  and  had  ne'er  a  mother  fairer, 
And  for  mother's  milk  my  father  gave  me  only  old  Madeira; 
So  following  out  my  early  training  I  wander  still  upon  the  sea, 
But  water  yet  I  ne'er  have  tasted ;  water  is  no  drink  for  me. 
Water,  no,  no,  no,  water,  no,  no,  no, 
Water  is  no  drink  for  me." 

Then  with  "Here's  to  the  haul"  and  a  gulp,  we  would  turn 
to  the  business  of  picking  out  the  treasures.  A  month  of  this 
dredging  took  us  pretty  much  the  length  of  the  Maine  sea-front. 


AN  AMATEUR  GRECIAN  131 

We  lodged  where  we  chanced  to  be,  generally  with  some  farmer 
or  fisherman.  There  comes  back  to  me  the  memory  of  a  good 
overnight  place  on  Ironbound  Island,  in  Frenchman's  Bay.  We 
landed  there  at  sunset  of  a  summer  day,  memorable  to  me 
because  there  had  been  a  partial  eclipse  of  the  sun,  which  we 
had  seen  through  bits  of  smoked  glass  taken  with  us  for  that 
purpose.  The  house,  as  seen  from  a  distance,  was  a  curious 
structure  set  against  a  hill,  two  stories  in  front  and  none  behind, 
where  it  came  against  the  steep  slope.  I  was  sent  to  parley  for 
food  and  lodging.  On  the  way,  seated  apart  on  a  stone,  I  came 
upon  an  old,  bareheaded  man,  who  was  reading  in  a  loud  rev- 
erential voice  from  a  book  in  a  language  which  at  first  seemed 
a  jargon  unknown  to  me.  I  went  slowly  near  to  him,  waiting 
for  him  to  look  up,  or  at  least  to  make  a  pause,  in  order  that  I 
could  speak  to  him  without  being  rude ;  but  he  kept  steadily  on 
in  his  preacher's  tone  and  I  had  a  chance  to  find  out  what  he 
was  up  to.  He  was  reading  Greek,  without  having  learned  the 
sounds  that  fit  the  signs.  When  the  letters  could  not  be  guessed, 
he  gave  them  a  sound  which  he  had  devised  for  each.  Where 
the  letters  were  much  like  the  Roman  form,  he'was  right  enough, 
but  there  were  enough  that  he  could  not  interpret  to  make  the 
whole  effect  very  odd.  At  last,  the  good  man  came  to  the  end 
of  his  chapter,  when  I  told  him  who  we  were,  and  what  we  were 
about.  He  handed  me  the  book,  asking  if  I  could  read  it.  I  read 
him  the  first  verses,  to  which  he  listened  most  intently.  When 
I  stopped,  he  said  we  might  stay  as  long  as  we  pleased.  Then 
he  added,  "  See  the  old  woman,  and  don't  tell  her  I  said  you  can 
stay."  I  found  the  dame  somewhat  difficult.  I  had  to  dissem- 
ble concerning  my  interview  with  the  old  man,  laying  the  accent 
on  the  Greek,  but  we  lodged  there  for  three  days,  of  which  nearly 
every  waking  moment  spent  ashore  was  of  necessity  given  to 
teaching  my  eager  pupil  how  to  pronounce  Greek.  If  I  had  been 
a  tenth  part  as  zealous  a  student  as  he  was,  I  should  have  been 
a  great  scholar.  It  was  interesting  to  see  that  he  really  knew 
the  New  Testament  Greek;  he  had  fairly  worked  out  the  gram- 


132  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

mar  and  syntax  in  his  simple  way,  so  that  he  appeared  not  to 
render  it  into  English  as  he  read,  but  to  think  in  the  language. 
His  joy  in  acquiring  the  pronunciation  was  affecting;  it  was  the 
crown  of  his  life. 

My  note-book  of  this  dredging  expedition  was  burnt  years 
ago;  thus  I  have  lost  the  name  of  this  dear  fellow  whose  friend- 
ship I  acquired  through  the  Greek  alphabet,  but  I  remember 
his  story  as  he  told  it  me.  He  had  been  to  sea  until  he  was  too 
old  for  that  labor.  He  was  entirely  self-taught,  but  he  had  an 
apt  pupil  in  himself,  for  he  had  much  sound  learning,  including 
rather  difficult  mathematics.  He  had  devised  and  made  an  in- 
teresting lot  of  instruments  for  nautical  observations,  novel 
forms  of  sextants  and  queer  contrivances  for  observing  and 
computing,  and,  what  was  more  remarkable,  tools  for  graduat- 
ing the  various  circles  he  needed  in  his  constructions.  He  was 
a  religious  enthusiast  and  for  all  his  active  life  had  longed  for 
a  chance  to  study  Greek  in  order  to  read  the  Christian  part  of 
the  Scriptures  in  the  original ;  he  was  skeptic  enough  to  distrust 
the  translations.  So  when,  at  about  seventy-five,  he  had  leisure, 
he  possessed  himself  of  the  text  of  the  New  Testament  in  the 
original,  and  without  grammar  or  dictionary  set  to  work  by  a 
process  of  comparison  with  the  English  version  to  learn  the 
language  —  it  was  amazing  to  see  how  well.  As  we  sailed  away, 
I  saw  the  old  man  in  the  place  where  I  found  him,  and  heard  him 
fairly  shouting  his  Greek  in  the  letters  and  sounds  he  had 
learned. 

Our  voyage  along  the  coast  was  replete  with  incidents  of  con- 
tact with  the  then  remote  and  primitive  people  who  dwelt  there. 
It  was  the  richer  for  Stimpson's  rough  art  in  dealing  with  their 
curiosity  as  to  our  purpose,  which  must  have  seemed  strange 
enough  to  folk  who  thought  they  knew  all  manner  of  dealings 
with  the  sea.  Between  Grand  Manan  and  Eastport,  while  we 
were  pulling  in  a  rough  sea  as  for  dear  life  towards  the  shore, 
a  fisherman  sailing  in  one  of  the  sharp-sterned,  high-pooped 
schooners  of  the  time,  found  his  curiosity  too  much  for  him. 


DREDGING  OFF  EASTPORT  133 

So  he  bore  down  on  us,  caught  up,  and  called  out,  "Some  kind 
of  fishing?"  "No,"  said  Stimpson,  "we  ain't  fishing";  where- 
upon the  skipper  pays  off,  and  sails  away  a  mile.  When  over- 
come again,  he  turns  about,  runs  up  to  us,  lays  to  awhile  in 
silence,  then,  "Lost  your  anchor?"  to  have  for  brief  answer, 
"No,  have  n't  lost  no  anchor."  Forth  once  more,  but  lest  he 
burst  with  ignorance,  he  comes  about  very  near  and  in  a  plead- 
ing tone  calls,  "Wall,  what  be  ye  doin'?"  Stimpson,  in  his  fa- 
vorite attitude  of  one  foot  on  either  gunwale,  explains.  "Don't 
you  see,  skipper,  we  are  turning  Grand  Manan  over  to  fill  up 
Eastport  Harbor."  "Shough,"  roars  the  skipper  like  a  blowing 
whale,  pays  off,  and  sails  away.  When  we  arrived  in  Eastport, 
we  found  that  our  fame  as  "naturals"  had  preceded  us. 

After  we  parted  with  Stimpson,  I  went  with  a  companion  to 
Trenton  Point  in  Frenchman's  Bay  and  spent  a  month  in  fur- 
ther dredging  and  roaming  about  with  one  or  two  companions 
whose  names  I  have  forgotten.  We  stayed  in  an  interesting 
family,  the  master  being  an  old  sea-captain  of  rough,  unsym- 
pathetic, almost  brutal  outside,  which  was  a  mask  for  a  very 
tender,  sympathetic  nature.  He  affected  to  despise  us  and  our 
occupation ;  but  one  stormy  night  when  the  three  of  us  had  been 
caught  out  in  the  bay,  and  came  near  losing  "the  members  of 
our  mess,"  getting  home  only  at  break  of  day,  I  thought  I  saw 
his  boat  reach  the  wharf  just  ahead  of  us,  and  his  hulky  shape 
slip  into  the  house  just  before  we  entered.  In  the  morning,  he 
affected  utter  unconcern  whether  we  had  been  in  danger  or  no; 
but  I  found  from  others  that  he  had  gone  forth  in  the  storm 
alone  in  his  boat  to  search  for  us. 

At  Trenton  Point,  I  fell  in  with  an  interesting  Englishman, 
who  was  a  country  teacher  of  music.  I  believe  his  name  was 
Ramsbottom  or  some  such  queerness.  He  was  a  well-trained 
musician,  oddly  out  of  place  in  the  hamlet  Where  he  dwelt;  I 
fancied  a  man  with  a  history,  such  as  may  be  found  here  and 
there  in  corners.  He  had  trained  a  very  good  voice,  which  ren- 
dered high-grade  music  admirably  well.  This  chap  was  a  mas- 


134  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

terful  fellow  indeed,  for  he  made  me  play  on  the  violin  in  his 
orchestra.  I  had  had  a  year's  training  at  it,  and  he  made  me  sing 
solos  which  I  had  never  done  before  or  since.  Therefore  I  fairly 
judged  him  a  master.  He  certainly  was  mightily  entertaining. 

From  Trenton  Point  we  took  by  boat  a  tent  and  simple  camp 
"outfit"  to  where  Bar  Harbor  now  stands;  tied  the  boat  in  the 
bushes  about  where  the  steamboat  wharf  is;  and  spent  some 
days  exploring  the  island  of  Mount  Desert,  then  very  little 
known.  We  camped  for  the  most  of  the  time  on  Green  Moun- 
tain, where,  boy-fashion,  we  amused  ourselves  by  starting 
boulders  down  the  steep  to  hear  them  crash  into  the  woods  be- 
low. Thence  we  went  to  Eagle  Lake,  built  a  raft  and  with  our 
shelter  tent  managed  to  sail  the  length  of  it ;  but  near  the  end 
of  the  voyage  there  came  a  stout  wind,  and  the  waves  broke 
the  raft  to  pieces,  so  that  we  lost  our  effects  and  had  to  swim 
ashore,  and  make  our  way  ignominiously  to  our  boat  and  back 
to  our  boarding-place. 

This  trifling  bit  of  a  camp  journey  in  Mount  Desert  was  a 
great  event  in  my  life,  for  it  brought  my  feet  for  the  first  time 
upon  a  mountain-top.  It  is  true  that  the  height  was  trifling,  — 
but  a  matter  of  fifteen  hundred  feet  or  so,  —  and  I  had  seen 
greater  elevations  in  the  distance;  but  the  way  to  experience  a 
mountain  is  to  climb  it  with  a  pack  on  your  back;  you  then 
sense  its  mass  in  a  way  that  sight  does  not  enable  you  to  do.  I 
have  never  had  this  sense  of  mass  so  borne  in  upon  me  as  in  this 
climbing  of  Green  Mountain.  I  remember  how  the  uniform 
structure  of  the  elevation  corresponded  with  my  text-book 
knowledge,  which  led  me  to  seek  the  outward  dip  of  strata  from 
an  axis  as  the  essential  feature  of  such  edifices.  I  came  to  a  fair 
idea  of  the  truth  that  it  and  the  associated  hills  were  the  re- 
mains of  the  crystalline  material  which  had  been  thrust  up  into 
the  folded  stratified  rocks,  which  had  at  one  time  covered  the 
country  and  had  since  been  eroded  by  streams  and  glaciers. 
Some  remnants  of  this  ancient  covering  I  found  in  the  schists 
about  the  north  shore  of  the  island. 


BOUNTY-CATCHERS  135 

Two  other  very  diverse  memories  of  impressions  had  on  this 
journey  remain  with  me.  One  is  of  a  great  fire  which  ravaged 
a  primeval  forest  of  pines  near  the  shore,  which  I  saw  from  our 
boat.  The  flames  rose  for  at  least  fifty  feet  above  the  tops  of  the 
tall  trees,  and,  fanned  by  a  strong  wind,  marched  with  great 
rapidity,  so  that  in  an  hour  or  two  an  area  of  some  hundred 
acres  was  swept  away,  leaving  only  the  headless  charred  trunks 
standing  amid  the  smoke.  Since  then  I  have  seen  the  fire  of 
battlefields  and  a  city  in  flames,  but  there  was  a  solemnity  in 
this  burning  of  a  great  wood,  a  sense  of  personal  loss,  keener 
than  they  aroused. 

The  other  impression  is  that  of  a  preposterous  fleet  of  ancient 
ships,  locally  called  "bounty-catchers,"  sheltered  from  all  the 
dangers  of  the  deep  in  a  well-landlocked  harbor.  It  was  a 
strange-looking  lot  of  archaic  craft,  some  of  them  of  obsolete 
shapes,  that  could  only  by  care  be  kept  from  falling  to  pieces. 
In  good  weather  these  queer  things  would  be  led  forth  into  the 
more  open  water,  but  not  to  the  deep  sea,  to  go  through  the 
pretence  of  fishing,  all  this  in  order  to  earn  the  bounty  then 
paid  to  fishing  vessels,  —  so  much  for  each  ton  of  their  inca- 
pacity. This  was  the  first  of  the  many  processes  of  cheating 
the  government  I  had  ever  seen.  For  at  the  government  post 
whereabout  my  early  days  were  passed,  there  was  always  a 
strict  economy  and  diligent  care  for  the  mint  the  officers  had  in 
their  hands. 

During  the  autumn  of  the  same  year,  in  the  Thanksgiving 
recess  which  then  existed  in  the  University,  I  went  with  Foley 
to  the  Umbagog  Lakes  in  Maine,  a  journey  of  ten  days  or  so. 
Many  of  the  incidents  of  this  outing  stay  clearly  in  mind.  In 
Portland,  where  we  had  to  wait  for  some  hours,  we  bethought 
ourselves  that  we  might  need  some  whiskey.  There  being  no 
evident  bar-rooms,  we  went  into  an  apothecary's  and  asked  for 
a  little  of  it,  to  be  told  that  we  needed  a  physician's  prescrip- 
tion to  obtain  any  kind  of  alcoholic  stuff.  Not  to  be  balked,  we 
entered  another  shop,  where  I  handed  the  attendant  the  needed 


136     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

bit  of  paper  with  the  usual  IJ  and  with  the  Latin  for  whiskey, 
"spiritus  frumenti,"  adding  thereto  a  trifle  of  iron  oxide.  This 
prescription  was  at  once  filled. 

Stopping  over  night  at  a  little  inn  in  Andover,  on  the  way 
into  the  wilderness,  I  found  an  old  man  seated  by  the  fire  in  the 
public  room.  He  asked  me  whence  I  came,  and  on  learning  that 
it  was  from  Cambridge,  near  Boston,  he  said  that  he  had  been 
there,  but  that  it  was  quite  a  while  ago.  I  asked  when  it  was, 
and  learned  that  it  was  on  the  day  of  the  Battle  of  Bunker  Hill, 
when  he  was  a  lad.  He  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  fighting,  but 
seemed  to  retain  a  clear  memory  of  the  battle  and  the  anxiety 
of  the  people  in  the  village.  Although  in  my  boyhood  I  had 
seen  men  who  claimed  to  have  been  soldiers  in  the  Revolution- 
ary campaigns  and  to  have  fought  at  Cowpens,  King's  Mountain, 
and  Yorktown,  this  was  the  only  ancient  I  ever  encountered 
who  had  memories  of  the  earlier  stages  of  the  Revolution. 

In  the  then  conditions  of  transportation  in  the  Urnbagog 
country  we  had  to  have  a  guide  and  pack  our  camp  effects  and 
canoe  over  portages.  Our  guide  was  a  half-breed,  a  drinking 
fellow,  who  proved  very  insolent  at  the  outset  of  our  journey 
with  him.  We  came  to  bettered  relations  through  a  trifling 
incident.  In  packing  over  a  carry,  he  in  the  lead,  a  spruce 
partridge  stood  in  the  path,  so  that  he  halted,  looking  at  it.  I 
saw  my  chance  to  show  him  that  we  were  not  so  green  as  we 
looked,  and  with  a  small  revolver  which  he  did  not  know  I  had, 
I  fired  at  the  bird  and  killed  it;  the  bullet  went  within  half  a 
foot  or  so  of  the  brute's  ear.  There  was  no  risk  of  harming  him, 
for  I  was  so  close  that  the  shot  could  not  go  wild.  He  walked  on, 
picked  up  the  bird,  and  put  it  in  his  pocket;  did  not  even  look 
at  me,  but  was  afterwards  very  friendly.  It  was  not  that  he 
was  frightened  that  he  became  more  amiable;  the  fact  that  I 
had  shot  by  his  head  and  hit  the  mark  put  me  in  the  class  of 
respectable  persons  —  those  who  knew  something  of  the  wilder- 
ness and  its  ways.  A  part  of  the  rather  absurd  but  effective 
training  of  the  lads  with  whom  I  had  been  brought  up  was  to 


SPORT  AT  THE  UMBAGOG  LAKES  137 

practise  shooting  under  these  conditions,  when  we  would  graze 
the  neighbor.  It  was  a  rather  risky  thing  to  do ;  I  do  not  re- 
member that  it  was  countenanced  by  our  elders,  nor  do  I 
recall  any  accident  arising  from  it.  No  doubt  it  helped  to  that 
quality  of  steadiness  which  the  marksman  needs  and  does  not 
easily  acquire. 

One  day's  fishing  at  a  logging-camp,  where  we  lodged  by  a 
dam  which  parted  the  upper  and  the  lower  lakes,  satiated  me 
with  this  sport.  We  caught  more  lake  trout  than  the  settlement 
could  consume ;  a  lot  of  the  fish  had  to  be  thrown  away.  It  was 
evident  that  fishing  was  not  to  my  mind ;  so  I  borrowed  a  shot- 
gun, and  went  after  spruce  partridges  in  some  near-by  clearings. 
The  stupid  birds  permitted  themselves  to  be  slain  with  aston- 
ishing ease,  and  as  they  were  in  great  plenty  I  soon  wearied  of 
this  sport  and  lugged  my  bag  back  to  the  camp  with  the  convic- 
tion that  butchering  animals  was  no  longer  amusing  to  me  as 
it  had  been  in  my  boyhood.  I  have  never  been  able  to  reawaken 
the  motive,  which  was  innately  strong.  I  am  inclined  to  think 
that  it  is  a  primitive  emotion,  which  normally  does  not  survive 
the  passing  of  the  childish  state  of  mind,  which  in  many  ways 
is  savage  in  its  propensities.  When  men  retain  the  ancient  cruel 
spirit  which  leads  them  to  slay  with  pleasure,  the  reasonable 
conclusion  seems  to  be  that  they  have  failed  to  grow  to  the 
stature  of  the  civilized  man. 

Winter  came  upon  us  in  a  great  storm,  which  broke  just  as 
we  were  setting  out  in  a  canoe  for  a  sail  down  the  longest  of  the 
lakes  in  the  Umbagog  chain.  The  wind  was  so  strong  that  we 
could  not  return  to  the  camp,  nor  could  we  keep  the  little  sail. 
The  only  manoeuvre  was  to  run  before  it,  paddling  as  hard  as 
we  could.  The  snow  fell  so  thick  that  we  could  not  see  the 
shores;  we  therefore  steered  by  the  direction  of  the  waves,  and 
at  the  end  of  the  voyage  came  ashore  with  such  momentum  that 
we  were  cast  beyond  the  beach  up  into  the  woods,  our  craft 
being  wrecked  and  all  three  of  us  somewhat  the  worse  for  the 
sudden  landing. 


138     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

Although  in  its  prime  object  this  little  expedition  was  a  fail- 
ure, —  for  I  did  not  enjoy  what  most  would  have  called  excel- 
lent sport,  —  the  touch  of  hardship  of  a  character  I  had  never 
found  in  the  Kentucky  woods  was  grateful  to  me,  and  the 
beauty  of  the  New  England  wilds  was  entrancing.  J-also  en- 
joyed the  contacts  it  gave  me  with  a  new  kind  of  man,  the  Maine 
lumberman.  In  that  day,  these  men  of  the  axe  were  all  bred  on 
the  soil,  and  a  more  vigorous  set  of  fellows  could  not  have  been 
found  on  the  planet.  The  camp  where  we  lodged,  near  the  dam, 
was  occupied  by  about  threescore  of  them.  Not  all  of  them  were 
in  it  every  night,  but  all  gathered  there  on  a  Sunday,  when  the 
most  of  them  had  a  spree,  not  much  else  but  animal  spirits  in  it, 
but  plenty  of  those,  which  their  hard  work  seemed  in  no  wise 
to  lessen.  The  camp  consisted  of  a  single  great  square  structure 
built  of  logs,  perhaps  sixty  feet  on  a  side;  around  the  margin 
was  a  sleeping-bench  some  eight  feet  wide;  within  that  tables 
and  in  the  centre  a  great  altar-like  fireplace,  with  a  dependent 
sheet-iron  chimney  with  a  great  hood  to  catch  the  smoke.  Here 
the  cook  did  his  simple  business  of  preparing  meats  in  early 
morning  and  at  night.  There  were  cabins  for  stores  and  great 
stables  for  the  oxen,  which  were  to  haul  the  logs  to  the  lakes  and 
streams  as  soon  as  the  snow  came  in  plenty.  Altogether  it  was 
a  rude  life,  but  it  strongly  appealed  to  me,  though  then,  as  ever 
since,  it  was  painful  to  me  to  see  the  noble  woods  slain  and  fields 
where  they  had  grown  made  a  bitter  desolation  by  fire. 


CHAPTER  X 

AN  EXPEDITION  TO  THE   GULP   OF  ST.   LAWRENCE 

THE  last  of  all  the  journeys  I  made  while  a  student  was  a  con- 
siderable expedition  to  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence  in  1861.  This 
was  rather  carefully  planned  so  as  to  fit  into  the  scheme  of  our 
training.  It  came  about  in  this  way.  My  small  experiences  in 
going  about  had  awakened  in  me  a  great  desire  for  a  longer 
coastwise  journey,  which  would  give  an  extended  contact  with 
both  sea  and  land.  Since  I  was  then  studying  the  Silurian  sys- 
tem in  my  vacations  in  Kentucky,  and  knew  the  points  fairly 
well,  the  publications  of  the  Canada  Survey  on  the  island  of 
Anticosti  interested  me  greatly.  The  report  of  the  explorer 
and  the  writings  of  Billings  showed  that  forms  existed  there 
which  differed  from  those  of  the  Ohio  valley  or  those  of  Great 
Britain  and  Scandinavia,  which  I  knew  from  the  collections  in 
the  Museum.  In  the  autumn  of  1860  I  met  Lord  Head,  then 
Governor-General  of  Canada,  at  Professor  Ticknor's  house  in 
Boston,  and  talked  with  him  of  my  plan  of  studying  that  island. 
He  was  a  very  kindly  old  gentleman,  and  was  so  good  as  to  in- 
terest himself  in  my  project  and  to  promise  help  in  the  way  of 
a  letter  to  all  the  government  officers  of  the  St.  Lawrence  dis- 
trict. So  all  at  once  it  was  decided,  with  my  master's  approval, 
that  three  of  us  should  the  next  summer  find  some  craft  that 
could  be  chartered  for  the  voyage  as  cheaply  as  might  be,  — 
for  we  had  to  pay  our  own  charges. 

The  adventurers,  consisting  of  Hyatt,  Verrill,  and  myself, 
managed  through  a  good  friend,  a  Captain  Treat  of  Eastport,  to 
charter  a  little  schooner  of  that  port.  We  found  a  pretty-look- 
ing little  craft  in  the  glisten  of  new  paint;  a  skipper  had  been 
found  in  a  splendid  giant,  who  bore  the  picturesque  name  of 


140     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

Mariner  Small — prophetically  so  dubbed  in  his  christening,  and, 
despite  his  surname,  one  of  the  mightiest  of  men.  He  was  an 
oldish  fellow,  who  had  made  his  comfortable  retiring  fortune 
on  the  far  seas,  where  he  won  also  fame  as  a  navigator  and  for 
divers  other  qualities.  I  fell  in  love  with  him  at  sight,  and  though 
we  had  many  bad  quarter-hours  together,  he  is  still  near  my 
heart.  On  shore  I  found  him  almost  ridiculously  urbane,  a 
mild-mannered,  soft-voiced  giant.  It  was  told  that  he  was  a 
deacon  and  uncommonly  pious  since  he  had  given  up  the  sea. 
All  this  interested  me  vastly,  for  I  thought  I  saw  else  in  Mariner 
Small.  We  learned  that  he  was  going  with  us  for  a  little  vaca- 
tion and  for  our  good  company,  to  a  corner  of  the  seas  —  one 
of  the  few  —  where  he  had  not  set  keel.  There  was  one  able  sea- 
man, named  Upton  Treat,  a  good  fellow  of  the  seafaring  class, 
but  of  rather  better  standing  than  the  most  of  those  who  go 
before  the  mast,  whom  we  found  most  helpful  and  companion- 
able; and  there  was  a  cook,  a  chap  known  as  George,  to  make 
a  fair  number  for  a  crew.  The  passengers  were  to  act  as  hands 
and  were  to  make  out  the  watches  and  at  times  —  when  the 
need  came  —  to  keep  the  craft  afloat  by  steady  pumping. 

As  we  did  not  know  where  else  we  might  seek  to  go  after 
Anticosti  in  the  four  months  we  expected  to  be  away,  and  hav- 
ing some  designs  even  on  Greenland  and  Iceland,  we  provi- 
sioned the  craft  largely,  so  that  if  seabound  we  could  have  man- 
aged to  feed  for  a  year.  Though  we  had  to  be  economical,  we 
were  well  found  in  such  matters  as  guns  and  ammunition,  as 
well  as  in  enthusiasm  —  enough  of  that,  indeed,  to  have  dared 
for  the  North  Pole.  Among  our  miscellaneous  stores  I  had  as  a 
private  venture,  on  the  recommendation  of  a  friend  who  had 
summered  in  Labrador,  a  gross  of  clay  pipes  and  a  keg  of  to- 
bacco and  also  a  lot  of  sugar,  and  remedies  for  scurvy,  a  disease 
which,  I  was  told  —  and  truly  enough  —  I  should  find  rife 
among  the  sailors  we  should  encounter.  We  had  no  whiskey  or 
other  spirits,  but,  oddly  enough,  my  father  had  sent  me  a  ten- 
gallon  keg  of  wine  from  the  Kentucky  vineyards,  which  we  took 


GULF  OF  ST.  LAWRENCE  EXPEDITION      141 

along  for  possible  festive  occasions.  One  of  my  comrades,  who 
was  full  of  chemical  lore,  contrived  an  expedient  for  preventing 
the  wine  from  turning  to  vinegar,  which  consisted  in  putting  in 
it  some  form  of  lime  warranted  not  to  affect  the  taste  and  to 
keep  it  perfectly  sweet.  He  probably  made  some  mistake  in  the 
kind  or  quantity  of  lime  he  used,  for  the  result  was  to  convert 
what  was  before  a  very  agreeable  drink  into  a  weak  acid  white- 
wash, for  which  the  only  use  was  to  dose  the  cook  by  means  of 
a  funnel  when  it  was  decided  that  his  cooking  was  altogether 
too  bad.  The  remark  in  his  hearing  that,  "  George  would  have 
to  have  some  more  wine,"  would  always  better  the  diet  for  some 
days. 

We  set  forth  on  our  journey,  as  will  be  seen  by  the  date,  after 
the  Civil  War  had  begun.  Hyatt  and  I  had  much  debate  con- 
cerning the  wisdom  of  our  going,  but  we  concluded  that  the 
struggle  would  probably  last  for  many  years,  and  that  we  would 
go  through  with  our  training  and  graduate  before  going  to  the 
task  of  arms.  Neither  of  us  had  the  least  hunger  for  the  busi- 
ness, which  we  foresaw  would  probably  break  up  our  careers. 
My  own  commonwealth,  Kentucky,  had  determined  to  remain 
neutral  in  the  struggle,  and  it  was  then  believed  that  it  would 
be  some  years  —  if  at  all  —  before  she  would  be  involved  in  it. 
At  any  rate,  we  determined  to  have  a  good  time  in  the  wilder- 
ness and  forget  the  discords  which  had  made  our  days  miser- 
able. I  remember  being  thankful  as  we  sailed  out  of  Eastport, 
that  we  should  hear  no  more  of  it  for  months  to  come. 

The  outset  of  our  seagoing  in  the  Bay  of  Fundy  was  tempest- 
uous. For  some  days  we  had  a  wild,  hard  sea,  which  tried  our 
stomachs  sorely,  and,  what  was  worse,  proved  our  nice-looking 
craft  to  be  unseaworthy.  We  then  heard  from  Skipper  Small 
that  the  craft  was  old  and  had  been  a  bad  sailer,  so  that  the 
owners  had  put  her  upon  the  stays,  cut  the  hull  in  two,  sepa- 
rated the  parts  and  put  in  a  piece  to  increase  her  length  by  ten 
feet.  This  had  made  her  swift,  but  the  job  was  ill  done,  with 
the  result  that  in  a  heavy  sea  the  joints  were  strained  open.  We 


142  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

had  to  pump  continuously  to  stay  afloat,  and  it  was  an  old- 
fashioned  pump  —  one  without  a  lever  handle,  so  that  you  have 
to  stand  over  the  pipe  and  take  hold  of  a  crosspiece.  I  remem- 
ber the  details  of  the  business  mighty  well,  for  my  back  aches 
again  as  it  comes  to  my  mind.  Off  Liverpool,  Nova  Scotia, 
after  a  week  of  pumping,  we  found  the  water  gaining  on  us;  so 
we  ran  into  the  port  for  repairs.  On  the  way  in  we  were  hailed 
by  an  officer  of  customs  and  bidden  to  lay  to;  but  as  the  sea 
was  heavy  and  the  situation  bad,  we  kept  on  until  we  found  a 
friendly  mud  bank  on  which  we  ran.  Swift  after  us  came  the 
irate  official,  who  boarded  us.  He  was  a  self-important  fellow, 
and,  despite  our  explanations,  full  of  threats  and  abuse.  He 
was  the  first  of  the  provincials  who  in  their  manner  showed 
their  delight  that  the  Union  was  breaking  up,  in  the  contumely 
they  poured  upon  its  unhappy  citizens.  When  the  situation  be- 
came intolerable,  I  bethought  me  of  the  document  which  Lord 
Head  had  sent  me,  —  a  most  imposing  charter-like  affair,  with 
a  huge  seal  and  ribbons  attached  thereto,  as  I  remember,  from 
the  Admiralty,  —  which  in  effect  placed  all  the  officers  of  cus- 
toms at  our  disposition.  I  see  now  the  awestruck  look  of  the 
chap  as  he  read  it  over.  He  wonderingly  asked  where  the  gen- 
tlemen were  who  were  named  in  the  paper.  When  I  told  him 
that  he  had  been  blackguarding  them  for  half  an  hour  his  recon- 
ciliation was  harder  to  bear  than  his  previous  insolence. 

After  a  week  of  delay  for  the  needed  oakum  in  our  joints  and 
some  bracing  at  the  splices,  we  again  set  to  sea  to  take  another 
whack  of  storm  on  our  way  to  the  Gut  of  Canso,  the  passage 
into  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence.  When  the  wind  died  out,  we 
rested  "hawse  hole  and  scupper  hole"  for  two  days,  the  first  of 
my  several  experiences  in  this  tedious  business.  The  monotony 
was  broken  by  an  incident  which  made  so  strong  an  impression 
that  I  feel  it  now.  An  ocean  steamer  passed  near  us,  swaying  in 
the  sea  as  if  she  would  roll  over;  a  sailor  was  working  aloft;  I 
was  watching  him  through  a  glass,  for  I  felt  his  peril.  Suddenly 
he  was  thrown  as  a  stone  from  a  sling,  striking  the  water  far 


'•' 


A  SUDDEN  DEATH  143 

from  the  ship.  At  once  the  ship  was  put  about,  stopped,  and 
boats  by  a  marvel  were  lowered,  but  the  man  did  not,  so  far  as 
I  could  see,  come  to  the  surface.  We  youngsters  were  eager  to 
get  out  a  boat,  but  the  skipper  said  "no,"  that  the  place  was 
about  a  mile  away  and  the  steamer's  people  would  be  there  long 
before  us ;  besides  the  chance  of  getting  a  boat  away  from  our 
dancing  craft  was  small.  He  was  properly  careful  of  his  men 
—  as  he  said  he  could  n't  go  home  unless  he  had  us  on  deck. 
After  the  first  waiting  for  the  sailor  to  make  his  appearance,  the 
steamer's  whistle  sounded,  the  boat's  crew  by  a  second  marvel 
went  back  to  their  davits,  and  she  swung  on  her  course.  I  have 
seen  much  of  sudden  death,  but  this  stays  as  the  type  of  such 
good  ending  —  duty,  up  aloft,  and  then  the  deep  sea. 

We  went  into  the  Gut  of  Canso,  to  find  it  packed  with  a  vast 
huddle  of  fishing  schooners,  several  hundred  sail,  partly  from 
Cape  Ann  and  other  parts  of  the  New  England  shore,  and  partly 
from  the  southern  ports  of  Nova  Scotia  and  New  Brunswick, 
all  held  by  head  winds  and  mad  with  the  delay.  Here  again  the 
irritation  between  the  Yankees  and  the  provincials  was  bitter. 
There  were  reports,  probably  all  false,  of  outrages  on  ships  done' 
here  and  there  by  the  Federal  or  British  authorities.  Almost 
the  worst  of  war  is  in  the  rumors  it  breeds.  These  stories,  added 
to  the  ancient  rivalry  of  the  fishermen,  bred  hatred,  so  that  our 
three  days  or  so  spent  in  this  fleet  was  as  in  an  ancient  naval 
battle.  An  exchange  of  marine  courtesies,  though  the  tempest 
ran  high,  was  commonly  followed  by  the  Gloucester  men  insist- 
ing on  closer  acquaintance;  they  would  take  to  their  boats 
and  board  the  offender.  I  saw  then  what  subsequent  experience 
has  confirmed,  that  the  Yankee  when  loosed  from  the  bonds 
of  peace  is  about  the  most  dangerous  animal  now  on  the 
planet.  Fortunately,  as  all  about  us  soon  learned  that  we  were 
not  fishermen,  we  got  out  of  the  shindy  except  as  spectators. 
Fortunately,  too,  there  came  a  sudden  change  of  the  wind  from 
northeast  to  southwest,  followed  at  once  by  shouting,  tugging 
at  windlasses,  clanking  of  chains,  and  creaking  of  blocks  as  the 


144     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

sails  went  up  before  the  anchors  were  turned.  The  "Ameri- 
cans," as  the  provincials  then  termed  them, —  Yankee  was  only 
a  term  of  contempt,  — were  the  swifter  to  be  under  way.  I  ex- 
pected to  see  a  regular  fight  in  the  exit,  but  all  else  seemed  to 
be  forgotten  save  the  dead  race  for  the  fishing-grounds.  It  was 
as  silent  as  a  vast  regatta,  with  a  marvellous  skill  in  steering,  so 
as  to  have  every  bit  of  advantage,  to  blanket  and  keep  from 
being  blanketed.  In  an  hour  or  two  after  we  had  broken  into 
the  open  water  of  the  Gulf,  the  thing  had  parted  into  two  fleets, 
those  of  the  Cape  Ann  group  and  those  of  the  Province  ports, 
with  unbroken  water  between  them,  and  by  night  they  had  the 
round  of  sea  between  them.  I  have  never  seen  such  a  striking 
difference  between  the  works  of  kindred  men. 

The  difference  between  the  New  England  and  colonial  ships 
which  I  saw  exhibited  in  the  sailing  fleets  which  were  gathered 
in  the  Gut  of  Canso  and  went  forth  to  the  Gulf  interested  me 
greatly.  I  studied  the  shapes,  the  size,  and  the  seamanship  of 
each  without  getting  much  light  on  the  matter.  It  was  then  as 
now  easy  to  see  the  difference,  as  specimens  of  the  two  varieties 
of  boats  lay  near  each  other;  it  was  indeed  plain  enough  when 
they  were  sailing  miles  apart;  but  I  have  never  been  able  to 
state  the  difference  in  a  way  that  would  enable  a  builder  to 
profit  by  the  analysis.  Taken  separately,  the  forms,  rims,  and 
sides  of  the  hull,  the  spars  and  masts,  the  sails  and  the  men,  are 
indistinguishable,  but  in  the  assemblage  they  are  both  as  di- 
verse as  wild  and  tame  beasts  of  the  same  species.  While  on  the 
Labrador  shore,  I  met  a  Nova  Scotia  skipper  who  was  also  a 
shipbuilder,  and  asked  him  why  they  did  not  build  their  boats 
after  the  Cape  Ann  model.  "We  do,"  he  said,  "we  have  been 
doing  it  for  fifty  years  or  more;  what  we  build  are  exactly  like 
the  Gloucester  men — until  the  damned  Yankees  come  again." 
I  came  to  the  conclusion,  which  may  be  true,  that  the  differ- 
ence is  due  to  the  way  in  which  the  work  is  done.  In  the  Pro- 
vinces it  was,  and  I  believe  is,  the  custom  for  the  fishermen  to 
build  their  own  vessels  alongside  of  their  houses,  using  their 


BIRD  ROCK  145 

spare  time  in  winter  for  this  work.  I  have  often  seen  the  grow- 
ing ships  of  perhaps  sixty  tons  in  their  dooryards  half  a  mile 
from  the  water  and  a  hundred  feet  above  its  level.  When  com- 
pleted, they  would  be  slid  down  movable  ways  to  the  destined 
place.  The  New  England  craft  were  built  in  yards  by  men  who 
did  nothing  else,  who  were  selected  and  trained  for  their  work, 
and  who  developed  the  qualities  of  artists,  where  only  such 
qualities  can  be  developed,  in  schools  shaped  by  approved  mas- 
ters. A  high-grade  ship  is  in  its  way  the  product  of  a  fine  art 
and  can  only  be  made  where  traditions  have  been  insensibly 
gathered  and  transmitted  by  masters. 

Our  first  goal  in  the  St.  Lawrence  was  the  Elizabeth  Islands, 
where  we  were  to  see  the  Triassic  sandstones  of  that  basin. 
There  we  spent  a  day  or  two.  I  recall  the  problem  as  to  the 
origin  of  the  rocks  in  the  interesting  sections  of  those  shores. 
There  I  first  felt  that  problem  as  a  large  matter.  What  most  in- 
terested me  were  the  sea  caves,  especially  those  of  Entry  Island; 
into  one  of  these  I  paddled  my  boat  until  almost  out  of  light  of 
day.  I  was  familiar  with  caverns  of  the  limestone  type,  such  as 
abound  in  Kentucky,  and  had  explored  them  much;  those 
structures  are  far  more  varied  than  any  shore  caves  cut  by  the 
waves  can  be,  but  those  sea  caverns  of  Entry  Island  had  a  qual- 
ity of  majesty,  a  weirdness,  I  had  never  dreamed  of,  perhaps 
because  they  combined  the  mysteries  of  the  deeps,  —  the  under 
earth  and  the  sea. 

From  Entry  Island  we  bore  away  for  Bird  Rock,  that  wonder- 
ful rookery  of  the  St.  Lawrence.  We  came  to  it  in  a  fortunate 
time,  when  the  sea  was  smooth  enough  for  landing.  When  so 
far  away  that  the  lone  isle  was  not  visible,  we  noted  that  it  was 
coming  nearer  by  the  steady  increase  in  the  number  of  marine 
birds — gannets,  gulls,  and  sea-pigeons — which  were  feeding 
on  the  waters,  or  in  flight  to  and  from  their  nesting-places.  The 
rock  itself  proved  to  be  a  little  isle,  perhaps  two  miles  long,  with 
its  cliffs  rising  a  hundred  feet  or  so  above  the  water,  made  of 
protruding  horizontal  layers  of  a  hard  Triassic  rock  with  inter- 


146     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

vening  beds  of  shale,  which  had  retreated  under  the  action  of 
frost  and  rain.  These  shales  made  an  admirable  place  for  birds 
to  nest,  and  there  they  were  by  myriads,  the  din  of  their  cries 
and  the  vast  sense  of  wingedness  which  seemed  to  be  in  the  air 
making  another  world  of  it  all. 

After  rowing  about  the  island  to  take  in  the  scene,  we  landed. 
Two  of  my  companions  set  to  work  with  their  guns,  while  I  un- 
dertook to  scale  the  cliffs  and  gather  eggs,  easily  mounting  from 
shelf  to  shelf,  admiring  the  vast  congregation  of  sedate,  bright- 
eyed  mothers  perched  in  every  place  of  vantage.  I  gained  a 
broad  ledge,  favored  by  the  large  gannets,  whose  eggs  I  wanted. 
It  was  a  rather  clay-covered  slope,  wet  with  the  rain  that  had 
just  fallen.  As  I  advanced,  the  gannets  would  rise  unwillingly 
and  whirl  about  me,  screaming  their  rage  as  I  gathered  their 
eggs  in  my  basket.  When  I  had  made  a  good  collection,  my  feet 
slipped,  and  in  an  instant  I  was  down  on  my  back  and  gliding 
towards  the  edge  of  the  cliff.  Neither  heels  nor  fingers  could  be 
planted  deep  enough  to  stop  me,  so  I  had  to  turn  to  clutch  my 
fisherman's  knife.  This  brought  me  up,  with  nothing  to  spare 
in  the  way  of  manoeuvring  ground.  Motion  arrested,  I  managed 
to  dig  the  heels  in,  and  then  to  cut  places  for  hands  so  as  slowly 
to  work  to  a  place  of  safety.  It  must  have  been  nigh  half  an  hour 
before  I  was  well  out  of  the  fix.  After  the  first  moment,  the 
danger  of  going  over  the  precipice  was  by,  but  there  was  an- 
other nearly  as  serious  from  the  attacks  of  the  gannets.  These 
creatures  seemed  to  recognize  my  helplessness,  as  they  showed 
by  their  vigorous  attacks  on  me.  I  was  several  times  struck  by 
their  bills,  fortunately  not  in  the  face,  which  I  managed  to  pro- 
tect by  my  knife,  with  which  I  struck  several  birds  which  came 
at  that  part  of  me.  At  the  end  of  the  fight,  I  had  had  enough  of 
bird-nesting,  which  I  have  always  looked  upon  as  a  mean  busi- 
ness. The  gunners  had  a  plenty  of  birds  and  a  great  lot  of  eggs 
of  the  sea-pigeon;  they  had  shot  a  large  male  gannet,  which 
seemed  dead  when  thrown  into  the  boat,  but  revived  as  we  rowed 
toward  our  ship,  and  was  disposed  to  have  vengeance  for  his 


THE  SKIPPER  AND  THE  GULLS  147 

wounds  by  attacking  us.  Since  the  sea  was  rising  and  the  ship 
drifting  away,  we  had  no  time  to  kill  him,  so  I  offered  him  my 
foot  to  bite ;  he  seized  it  and  held  so  firmly  as  to  pain  me  through 
the  thick  leather  until  we  came  aboard. 

At  this  stage  of  our  expedition,  having  been  for  some  time 
without  fresh  meat,  we  learned  to  eat  sea-fowl ;  and  we  found 
the  sea-pigeon  excellent  eating.  Gulls  of  the  several  kinds  were 
very  palatable,  if  the  precaution  was  taken  to  parboil  them  be- 
fore they  went  into  the  stew-pot.  Our  skipper  had  the  usual 
horror  of  the  real  sailors  for  eating  sea-fowl ;  the  sight  of  us  when 
thus  engaged  would  drive  him  from  the  table  to  pace  the  deck, 
where  he  relieved  his  mind  by  a  volcanic  burst  of  his  compli- 
cated and  marvellous  profanity  before  he  came  to  the  cabin 
again.  Though  we  admired  the  fellow,  —  he  was  indeed  a  noble 
man,  —  after  the  manner  of  youths  on  a  lark  we  were  given  to 
tormenting  him  as  well  as  the  cook.  One  act  of  meanness  comes 
back  to  me.  After  we  had  been  out  a  month  or  so,  the  skipper, 
who  had  with  disgust  disdained  as  rations  gulls  and  the  like, 
was  lucky  enough  to  shoot  two  black  ducks.  Over  them  he 
gloated,  saying  that  he  would  eat  them  all  himself, — he  was 
capable  of  the  feat,  for  his  huge  carcass  had  storage  like  a  ship's 
hold,  —  while  we  should  make  our  meal  on  gulls.  As  the  cook- 
ing went  on  he  presided  over  the  galley,  as  if  he  saw  the  possi- 
bilities of  substitution ;  he  even  saw  his  private  victual  dished 
up  and  put  on  the  table  before  him.  But  we  had,  by  threatening 
the  cook  with  "  more  wine"  and  other  inflictions,  compelled  him 
to  make  up  our  mess  in  a  similar  dish  so  that  the  two  looked 
alike.  Then  at  the  last  moment  we  contrived  that  the  skipper 
should  take  a  look  on  deck  while  the  dishes  were  changed.  He 
ate  the  gulls  (and  we  the  ducks)  with  many  remarks  on  their 
sorry  quality  and  much  abuse  of  our  dirty  habit  and  its  inevit- 
able consequences  in  the  way  of  bad  weather  and  shipwreck. 
When  we  were  sure  that  good  digestion  had  sufficiently  attended 
on  appetite  to  make  the  success  complete,  we  told  the  skipper 
the  game  we  had  played  on  him  in  order  to  clear  off  the  score 


148     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

we  owed  him  for  his  criticism  of  our  diet  and  other  indignities. 
He  would  have  slain  us,  but  that  he  was  at  heart  a  very  good 
man,  though  subject  to  magnificent  rages,  which  were  as  often 
against  the  order  of  nature  as  against  man.  He  was  built  for 
hard  fighting,  to  command  a  fleet  in  battle,  and  was  out  of  place 
with  his  troublesome  crew,  and  in  the  uncomfortable  situation 
where  he  was  teased  by  the  men  he  was  supposed  to  command. 

I  am  glad  to  say  that  the  process  of  disciplining  Skipper  Small 
seems  on  the  whole  to  have  been  skilfully  conducted  by  the 
crew.  We  determined  that  we  would  promptly  and  in  silence 
obey  every  order  he  gave;  we  would  as  far  as  in  us  lay  disregard 
his  rather  rare  outbreaks,  taking  them  as  we  did  the  weather. 
Only  once  did  I  reprove  him  for  his  wondrous  profanity,  which, 
as  I  found  out  afterward,  was  famed  the  seas  about.  I  was  on 
the  middle  watch  with  him  one  bad  night  when  the  weather  was 
most  vexing.  After  a  long  whack  at  the  earth  and  sky,  he  turned 
the  torrent  on  me.  To  give  him  a  lesson,  I  woke  up  the  cook  and 
told  him  to  report  to  the  skipper,  who  was  at  the  wheel.  When 
he  asked  why  I  had  done  this,  I  told  him  that  the  cook  was  the 
only  person  on  the  craft  who  by  custom  was  expected  to  take 
abuse,  for  he  was  the  only  hired  man  except  the  skipper.  There 
is  a  saying  that  "those  who  go  down  to  the  sea  in  schooners  see 
hell" ;  that  there  is  truth  in  the  adage  I  can  testify.  It  is  evi- 
dent that  even  a  good  high-grade  captain  can  breed  a  lot  of  it. 
I  am  glad  to  say  that  when  we  had  been  out  a  month  or  so  our 
troubles  with  Skipper  Small  were  over.  He  was  large  of  heart 
and  mind;  he  seemed  to  like  our  venturesome  humor,  and 
became  much  interested  in  what  we  were  about,  and  we  fell 
quite  in  love  with  his  superb  manliness.  We  taught  him  some- 
thing of  natural  history,  and  he  in  turn  taught  me  a  good  bit 
of  the  sailor's  arts,  so  that  at  the  end  of  it  I  could  hand,  reef, 
and  steer  as  well,  or  make  and  work  up  observations  —  except 
by  the  methods  of  "lunar  intervals,"  which  he  did  not  know 
how  to  use. 

From  Bird  Rock,  we  made  our  way  towards  Anticosti,  as 


ARRIVAL  AT  ANTICOSTI  149 

usual  through  hard  weather.  We  came  upon  the  island  at  the 
east  end,  where  we  found  a  "one-sided  harbor,"  which  we  were 
told  was  safe  even  in  the  heaviest  easterly  gales,  to  which  it 
lay  wide  open.  We  were  advised  to  trust  it,  for  about  the  time 
when  we  were  scared  to  death  we  should  find  that  it  was  safe. 
This  we  had  a  quick  chance  to  prove,  for  we  were  hardly  an- 
chored before  the  testing  storm  came.  Fortunately  we  had  good 
ground  tackle,  three  anchors,  and  chain  enough  for  a  ship  of  three 
times  the  size.  With  them  on  a  good  bottom  we  rode  on  a  moun- 
tain of  sea  until  it  seemed  that  the  craft  must  drag  under  or  pull 
her  nose  off.  I  remember  wondering  that  a  pint  of  water  poured 
out  at  six  feet  above  the  deck  at  the  foremast  would  all  be  blown 
over  the  stern.  Just  as  the  situation  seemed  about  as  bad  as  a 
sea-storm  can  bring,  the  sea  began  to  break  on  a  bar  outside  of 
us  and  almost  in  a  moment  we  were  in  water  so  still  that  we 
could  easily  launch  a  boat  and  go  to  the  shore  a  cable's  length 
away.  I  have  seen  this  beautiful  process  when  a  very  slight  in- 
crease in  the  height  of  the  waves  would  thus  create  calm  on 
other  occasions,  but  never  before  or  since  when  it  brought  so 
sudden  a  reprieve  from  what  seemed  to  be  very  imminent 
danger. 


CHAPTER  XI 

ANTICOSTI    AND   LABRADOR 

THE  island  of  Anticosti  proved  to  be  mightily  interesting  to  us, 
and  as  we  spent  the  summer  along  its  shores  it  merits  a  brief 
general  description.  It  is  about  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles 
long,  with  a  maximum  width  of  about  forty  miles ;  it  has  nearly 
the  land  area  of  Connecticut.  The  whole  of  the  field  is  composed 
of  strata  of  the  Ordovician  and  Silurian  age,  practically  alto- 
gether of  rather  thin-bedded  limestones  or  limy  shales,  which 
lie  in  less  disturbed  altitudes  than  any  equally  extensive  de- 
posits of  that  age.  They  have  not  indeed  yielded  perceptibly 
to  compressive  strains  or  been  otherwise  disturbed  by  organic 
action  since  they  were  laid  down.  So  far  as  I  have  been  able  to 
find,  there  are  no  dykes  on  this  area,  and  the  trifling  local  dis- 
colorations  or  departures  from  horizontality  can  be  explained 
by  slight  dips  in  the  sea-bed  on  which  they  were  formed,  or  by 
the  solution  of  the  strata  by  the  action  of  underground  waters, 
in  some  instances  perhaps  when  the  sea  was  lower  than  it  is  at 
present.  The  surface  of  this  field  is  singularly  regular  in  con- 
tour; along  the  south  coast  it  is  prevailingly  low,  none  of  the 
cliffs  rising  above  a  few  feet  in  height  and  much  of  the  front 
being  marked  by  recent  ice  installations.  From  this  face,  the 
land  rises  rather  gradually  at  the  rate  of  five  to  ten  feet  to  the 
mile  to  the  northward,  so  that  on  the  north  shore  the  island  is 
continuously  bordered  by  cliffs  which  have  a  height  of  from  two 
to  three  hundred  feet. 

The  greater  part  of  this  surface  of  Anticosti  is  covered  with 
a  dense,  rather  low  forest  of  spruces  and  firs;  we  saw  no  trees 
over  sixty  feet  in  height,  though  we  did  not  succeed  in  pene- 
trating more  than  three  miles  from  the  shore.  Along  the  south 
coast  there  is  frequently  a  broad  belt  of  swamps  composed 


FIRST  IMPRESSION  OF  ANTICOSTI  151 

mainly  of  sphagnum,  which  has  evidently  displaced  and  is  still 
destroying  the  forest-covered  area.  The  whole  surface  shows  a 
system  of  low  valleys  with  broad  divides.  The  valleys  have 
evidently  been  in  part  filled  with  drift.  This  glacial  coating  is 
not  thick  and  is  chiefly  composed  of  the  waste  of  the  subjacent 
rocks;  though  I  saw  some  areas  where  the  drift  material  was 
mostly  from  the  rocks  on  the  mainland.  There  were  no  large 
boulders  such  as  I  had  been  accustomed  to  find  in  New  Eng- 
land. As  a  whole,  it  was  a  region  of  good  soil,  so  that  I  won- 
dered that  it  was  not  peopled.  When  we  saw  the  place  there 
were  not  a  dozen  habitations  upon  it,  these  being  occupied  by 
the  three  lighthouse-keepers,  one  at  each  end  and  one  at  the  cen- 
tre of  the  south  shore,  with  one  or  two  houses  at  Ellis  Bay  near 
the  west  end,  where  dwelt  two  lonely  men  who  were  in  a  small 
way  trading  with  the  fishermen  who  resorted  to  that  miserable 
one-sided  harbor.  It  was  the  loneliest  land  I  had  as  yet  seen, 
the  most  of  a  wilderness;  for  though  it  lay  on  the  path  of  two 
hundred  years  of  activity,  —  by  it  passed  all  the  movements 
of  French  and  British  to  the  river  St.  Lawrence,  and  thence  to 
the  interior  of  the  continent,  —  it  seems  never  to  have  been  the 
seat  of  human  endeavors.  Save  the  lighthouses,  set  to  warn 
the  seafarers  of  its  dangerous  coast,  and  the  multitudinous 
wrecks  which  showed  the  futility  of  these  warnings,  the  place 
was  deprived  of  human  interest;  it  appears,  indeed,  not  to 
have  been  tenanted  by  any  tribe  of  Indians. 

The  wreckage  on  the  southern  shore  of  Anticosti  was  aston- 
ishing in  amount.  There  were  places  for  miles  in  length  where 
fire  would  have  run  in  the  heaps  from  one  to  the  other.  This 
was  due  to  the  fact  that  the  number  of  castaway  ships  was 
large,  but  more  to  their  cargoes  of  lumber,  which  supplied  a  vast 
quantity  of  debris.  A  foggy  shore,  together  with  the  sudden 
gales  that  visited  it,  made  the  island  a  very  graveyard  for  sail- 
ing vessels. 

While  the  first  impression  of  Anticosti  was  forbidding,  we 
learned  to  love  it  for  the  richness  of  its  fossils.  Probably  no- 


152  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

where  else  in  the  world  is  there  a  like  length  of  coast  where 
the  sea  has  done  its  work  of  dissolution  on  rocks  so  rich  in  the 
remains  of  ancient  life  of  the  Silurian  age.  Something  of  the 
plenty  was  due  to  the  fact  that  only  one  collector  had  been 
there  before  us,  and  though  he  had  made  a  good  bag,  the  field 
was  unexhausted,  —  we  nowhere  found  a  mark  of  his  collecting. 
We  had  trouble  in  getting  to  the  shore  because  of  the  lack  of 
harbors.  The  only  way  was  to  take  a  chance  of  a  wetting  and 
pounding  by  driving  our  light  whale-boat  right  through  the  surf 
and  dragging  it  quickly  out  of  the  reach  of  the  breakers.  When 
we  had  gathered  our  treasures,  we  watched  for  a  chance,  shoved 
the  boat  through  the  breakers  and  jumped  into  it  when  we  had 
passed  their  line.  This  often  limited  our  load  and  was  some- 
times a  bit  risky;  but  we  became  fairly  skilful  in  the  business: 
moreover,  we  were  of  an  age  to  be  reckless.  In  such  a  life  dan- 
ger seems  to  be  an  insignificant  matter. 

Only  once  or  twice  so  far  as  I  can  remember  were  we  in 
serious  peril.  At  the  west  end  of  the  island  we  anchored  the 
schooner  without  sounding  to  find  the  goodness  of  the  ground 
for  anchoring,  and  four  of  us,  including  the  skipper,  went  ashore 
in  search  for  fossils.  Toward  sundown  we  suddenly  discovered 
that  the  ship  had  dragged  her  anchor  and  was  drifting  off-shore 
before  a  strong  wind.  When  this  was  noticed,  the  party  were 
scattered  along  a  mile  of  the  cliff-front;  so  by  the  time  we  had 
all  got  to  the  boat,  the  craft  was  three  miles  away  and  drifting 
rapidly  before  the  gale  that  had  sprung  up.  Since  there  was  no 
one  but  the  cook  aboard,  we  started  in  chase.  In  a  little  while 
we  were  in  a  heavy  sea-way  and  with  the  night  coming  on,  and 
our  goal,  though  nearer,  growing  dimmer  and  dimmer  in  the 
fading  light.  Our  boat  took  so  much  water  from  the  splash  of  the 
waves  that  it  was  all  we  could  do  to  keep  it  bailed.  To  make 
the  matter  worse,  the  cook,  who  had  managed,  by  the  exercise  of 
more  energy  than  he  expended  in  all  his  other  days  on  the  voy- 
age, to  get  in  his  anchor,  now  hoisted  sail  to  work  his  way  back 
to  the  shore;  our  only  chance  was  to  guess  his  tacks,  for  if  we 


IN  SERIOUS  PERIL  153 

ran  by  him  we  were  pretty  surely  lost :  we  could  not  recover  the 
shore  against  the  heavy  chop  of  sea,  and  the  wide  gulf  was  be- 
fore us.  Luckily,  our  skipper  guessed  right  —  he  had  the  sea- 
man's sense  of  situation  —  and  we  came  near  enough  for  his 
mighty  shout  to  reach  the  cook;  the  craft  luffed  up  and  after 
much  manoeuvring  we  managed  to  get  aboard,  all  but  the  skip- 
per pretty  well  worn  out  by  the  toil  at  the  oars.  He  was  of  the 
tireless  kind,  and,  although  sixty  years  of  age,  still  a  man  of 
marvellous  endurance.  We  found  that  the  cook,  who  was  left  on 
watch,  had  turned  in  for  a  sleep,  and  that  when  he  discovered 
the  craft  adrift  he  had  got  up  his  anchor,  —  a  good  job  for  two 
men,  —  hoisted  jib  and  mainsail,  and  set  out  for  the  place  where 
he  belonged.  He  did  right,  but  his  activity  brought  us  into 
grave  peril. 

For  six  weeks  we  amassed  and  stored  fossils  and  what  of  liv- 
ing things  came  to  hand.  The  wealth  to  naturalists  was  mostly 
in  the  ancient  life.  The  shores  were  so  wave-swept  that  there 
was  little  life  in  the  shallow  waters;  on  the  land,  too,  it  was 
scanty.  Few  birds  nested  near  the  shore,  and  when  we  tried  to 
penetrate  inland,  the  thick,  low  scrub  woods  defeated  us.  We 
found  one  or  two  nesting-places  of  the  eider  ducks,  but  they 
were  not  plenty.  We  tried  for  the  interior  across  the  bogs.  To 
go  with  safety  it  was  necessary  to  have  an  oar  under  each  arm, 
so  that  in  case  one  broke  through  it  would  be  possible  to  climb 
out,  for  one  often  went  up  to  the  armpits  in  the  cold  swamp 
water.  So  we  gave  up  the  attempt,  and  the  interior  remained  to 
us  unknown, — no  very  tempting  mystery,  however,  for  look- 
ing from  the  open  sea  the  eye  ranged  far  across  it  and  showed 
a  dull  monotonous  expanse  of  northern  woods. 

There  were  no  traces  of  deer,  caribou,  or  moose;  black  bears, 
however,  seemed  to  be  plenty.  At  one  place  near  the  centre  of 
the  south  shore  we  found  the  ruins  of  a  large  whale,  which  had 
been  wrecked  like  a  ship.  On  this  mass  of  flesh  many  bears  had 
been  feeding,  as  was  shown  by  their  plentiful  tracks.  None  of 
them  were  in  sight,  but  we  could  trail  them  inland  on  the  paths 


154  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

they  had  broken  in  their  journeys  to  and  fro  from  their  lairs. 
It  was  evident  that  they  had  fed  on  the  mass  of  carrion  for  a 
long  time,  and  that  it  was  their  habit  to  come  out  at  night  and 
return  to  their  hiding-places  in  the  day.  So  at  evening  we 
brought  from  the  ship,  which  lay  in  the  offing,  such  guns  as  we 
had, — two  fowling-pieces,  one  a  heavy  duck  gun,  and  a  rifle,  and 
the  three  of  us  lay  in  wait.  We  knew  that  our  station  should 
be  down  the  wind  from  the  heap  of  carrion,  but  the  stench  there 
was  intolerable;  we  therefore  hid  in  a  clump  of  beech  about 
sixty  yards  to  windward,  trusting  that  the  bears  would  not  be 
able  to  note  the  little  smell  of  man  in  the  air  full  of  other  odor. 
After  we  had  endured  mosquitoes  for  some  hours,  the  long 
northern  twilight  began  to  verge  into  night  and  we  could  hear 
bears  in  plenty  coming  through  the  bushy  upland  and  swamp 
ground  which  lay  behind  the  beach.  We  soon  saw  what  seemed 
to  be  a  dozen  standing  on  a  low  bluff  beyond  the  dead  whale, 
when  with  the  wind  full  of  stench  from  it,  they  found  suspicion 
of  danger.  They  were  more  than  a  hundred  yards  away,  and 
in  the  faint  light  impossible  targets.  The  only  thing  to  do  was 
to  wait ;  and  wait  we  did,  until  at  last  one  big  fellow  braved  it 
and  came  on  for  his  supper.  We  agreed  to  close  on  him  and  at 
the  word  to  stop  and  fire.  My  comrades  did  as  planned,  but 
failed  to  hit  because  there  was  no  chance  to  aim  in  the  dark- 
ness. Being  fairly  well  trained,  I  instinctively  held  until  the 
brute  in  his  surprise  lifted  up  his  head,  so  that  running  near  I 
gave  him  an  ounce  ball  and  a  lot  of  buckshot;  this  felled  him. 
Knowing  from  tradition  that  the  proper  thing  was  to  cut  his 
throat,  I  set  about  the  task,  which  proved  difficult,  for  the  neck 
seemed  to  be  made  of  hickory  withes.  While  I  was  bunglingly 
about  the  business,  the  brute  recovered  and  managed  in  some 
way  not  clear  to  me  to  roll  me  over  and  fall  on  top  of  me,  so  that 
I  was  well  rammed  down  upon  the  gruesome  mass  of  whale.  All 
the  while  I  was  trying  to  get  at  his  interior  with  my  good  knife, 
but  although  in  the  fiction  which  makes  up  our  tales  of  hunt- 
ing this  is  always  easily  done,  the  actual  doing  is  really  hard. 


AN  UNPLEASANT  ADVENTURE  155 

Fortunately,  the  bear  was  not  attending  to  me;  I  doubt,  indeed, 
if  he  knew  what  I  was  about.  Though  evidently  hard  hit,  he 
quickly  began  to  scramble  into  the  swamp  behind  the  beach, 
while  I  clung  to  the  hair  where  his  tail  might  have  been  if  it 
were  in  Bruin  shape  to  have  such.  He  quickly  shook  me  off  and 
disappeared.  We  intended  to  track  him  down  the  next  day; 
but,  as  usual,  there  was  an  on-shore  gale,  and  we  had  to  tack 
off  the  coast  and  did  not  find  our  way  back.  It  required  some 
days  and  numerous  applications  of  alcohol  to  clear  away  the 
odor  of  the  whale  from  my  scalp. 

In  various  places  I  have  had  contacts  with  black  bears  which 
have  taught  me  that  they  are  very  harmless  beasts,  much  less 
fearsome  than  the  half-wild  pigs  one  is  apt  to  encounter  in  the 
woods  of  our  Southern  States,  and  for  risk  not  to  be  compared 
to  a  little  goring  bull  or  to  many  cows  when  they  have  had  their 
calves.  The  grizzlies  may  be  dangerous,  but  when  I  have  en- 
countered them  they  have  always  seemed  perfectly  willing  to 
share  the  world  with  me  in  a  friendly  way.  They  do  not  scuttle 
as  the  black  bear  does,  yet  they  evidently  prefer  their  own  so- 
ciety and  seek  to  withdraw  from  the  presence  of  man.  Except, 
it  may  be,  for  the  so-called  man-eating  tigers,  I  am  inclined  to 
think  that  well-disposed  people  might  come  in  contact  with  any 
wild  beasts  with  no  more  danger  than  they  would  be  exposed 
to  in  their  own  barnyards.  To  those  who  are  of  a  mind  to  ap- 
proach bears  with  murder  in  their  hearts,  I  may  give  one  bit  of 
advice,  based  on  two  bits  of  personal  experience;  it  is,  that  it  is 
not  worth  while  to  hold  on  to  the  bear  at  his  hinder  end  unless 
you  are  in  search  of  sensations.  In  an  encounter  years  after  that 
just  related  I  again  tried  the  experiment,  which  continued  for 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  with  much  damage  to  my  skin  and 
none  to  Bruin;  he  positively  would  not  face  about. 

Another  hunting  incident  of  the  Anticosti  shore  stays  in  my 
mind  so  clearly  that  it  troubles  me  as  I  begin  to  set  it  down. 
Hyatt  shot  from  the  ship  a  female  seal,  of  the  species  common 
on  our  shores.  The  wounded  creature  was  taken  on  deck  and 


156  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

lay  there  dying.  Its  eyes  and  its  moans  showed  its  agony;  it 
seemed  to  plead  with  us  for  help.  I  managed  to  give  it  the 
coup  de  grace  with  a  bullet  through  its  head,  but  that  face  is 
before  me  now,  though  it  passed  near  half  a  hundred  years  ago. 
Since  that  sad  experience  I  have  never  killed  a  beast.  Some  of 
my  friends  esteem  this  fanciful  softness;  it  does  not  seem  to  me 
so,  for  if  it  were  fit,  I  would  slay  a  man  and  not  be  troubled 
about  it  further  than  by  the  regret  that  the  conditions  required 
the  action.  It  is  the  sudden  and  brutal  assault  of  the  hunter  on 
the  unoffending  creature  which  breeds  this  pain. 

Although  there  were  not  in  all  a  dozen  people  on  the  island, 
they  all  curiously  stand  out  in  the  shadowy  field  of  memory; 
perhaps  because  they  were  so  few,  and  needed  the  little  society 
we  could  give  them.  The  families  were  too  far  apart — about 
sixty  miles — for  them  to  see  each  other,  and  so  they  lived  quite 
alone.  Their  situation  was  worse  than  usual,  for  the  reason  that 
the  supply  ship  had  been  wrecked  the  year  before  and  they  had 
been  near  two  years  without  a  chance  to  replenish  their  stores. 
They  had  enough  of  pork,  beans,  and  flour,  and  of  oil  for  their 
lamps,  but  all  else  they  lacked.  At  the  eastern  light  the  wife  of 
the  keeper  was  low  with  consumption,  — in  that  fearful  business 
with  only  her  husband  and  a  man  helper.  We  proposed  to  take 
her  to  the  mainland,  but  there  were  no  friends  or  kindred  for 
her  to  go  to.  We  gave  what  we  had  of  delicacies,  especially  white 
sugar,  which  she  curiously  longed  for,  and  also  of  the  novels 
and  other  light  reading  we  had  brought  with  us.  She  was  a  read- 
ing woman  of  much  quality,  was  greatly  delighted  with  our  little 
gifts  and  contented  with  the  expectation  that  she  would  die 
the  next  winter.  At  the  west-end  light,  the  keeper  had  recently 
lost  his  wife,  whose  grave  was  near  the  door.  He  bore  his  loss 
with  that  grim  simplicity  which  characterizes  the  seafarers  who 
live  in  the  expectation  of  bad  weather.  He  seemed  to  find  some 
comfort  in  firing  his  warning  gun  into  the  prevailing  fog-bank 
to  tell  ships  that  death  lay  that  way.  I  admired  the  vigorous 
way  in  which  he  would  ram  the  charge  and  fire  into  the  shadowy 


A  LIGHTHOUSE-KEEPER  157 

mist ;  and  then  for  an  interval  of  half  an  hour  subside  into  medi- 
tative silence.  The  process  seemed  greatly  to  relieve  his  sor- 
rowful mind.  This  good  man  told  me  a  little  tale  of  the  signal 
gun  at  the  light  on  Bad  Rock.  It  ran  that  a  few  years  before 
the  report  came  from  passing  ships  that  the  light  was  not  lit. 
After  some  months  a  vessel  was  sent  there  to  see  what  it  meant. 
They  found  the  decayed  bodies  of  the  keeper  and  his  assistant, 
the  only  folk  on  the  isle,  lying  beside  the  bursted  gun. 

The  keeper  at  the  central  lighthouse  was  a  very  interesting 
fellow.  Of  nigh  half  a  hundred  of  his  peculiar  trade  I  have 
known,  all  worth  knowing,  he  was  the  most  interesting.  Like 
the  next  in  note,  a  certain  Jack  Peacock  of  a  later  stage  in  this 
story,  he  was  London  born  and  bred,  but  above  the  working 
grade ;  in  fact,  he  was  an  educated  man  who  had  books  and  had 
ranged  in  them  and  outside  of  them  pretty  far.  Moreover,  after 
the  manner  of  the  better  variety  of  lighthouse-keepers,  he  was 
a  merry  fellow.  His  first  inquiry  of  me  was  for  news  concerning 
the  Franco-Italian-Austrian  war  of  1859,  of  which  he  had  known 
only  the  beginning.  He  listened  to  my  account  of  the  campaign 
attentively,  asked  keen  questions  to  bring  out  the  value  of  the 
famous  "  Quadrilateral/'  seemed  concerned  that  Venice  had  not 
been  given  to  Italy;  all  of  which  showed  me  that  this  strangely 
secluded  man  had  had  a  history.  When  I  began  to  tell  him  of 
the  Civil  War  in  "the  States,"  he  at  once  politely  stopped  me, 
saying  that  for  certain  reasons  he  had  been  interested  in  the 
war  he  had  asked  me  about,  but  he  desired  to  hear  of  no  others. 
He  turned  the  conversation  to  the  question  of  the  food  for  his 
cows,  which  he  had  brought  upon  the  island  and  needed  to  pro- 
vide with  some  kind  of  forage,  as  the  hay  imported  with  them 
a  year  or  so  before  was  nearly  gone. 

This  man's  place  was  an  admirable  hermitage.  There  was  a 
large  family,  a  servant  or  two,  and  a  number  of  children;  a 
flower  and  kitchen  garden,  and  over  all  a  grace  which  told  that 
the  man  was  not  of  the  common  lot.  Among  the  children  was 
one,  I  think  a  little  girl,  who  he  said  was  a  descendant  of  Thomas 


158  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

Jefferson.  I  meant  to  have  inquired  further  about  the  little  one, 
but  the  chance  did  not  come.  I  tried  to  find  the  history  of  the 
fellow  from  others,  but  learned  nothing.  He  was  neither  leaky 
nor  apologetic.  He  took  himself  as  he  was,  and  in  manner  bade 
others  do  so. 

We  anchored  longest  at  Ellis  Bay,  at  the  west  end  of  the 
island ;  for  here  there  was  the  most  of  shelter,  and  we  had  sundry 
interesting  experiences  with  the  fishermen  who  resorted  to  the 
place  for  wood  and  water  and  overhauling  of  their  craft.  At  the 
end  of  a  month  we  came  to  know  these  people  well.  They  were 
mostly  from  Cape  Breton;  for  some  reason  we  were  out  of  the 
path  of  the  "Americans."  Here  we  noted  that  two  or  three  of 
these  vessels  were  following  us  in  a  persistent  manner,  always 
keeping  in  sight  of  our  own  little  craft  to  the  neglect  of  their 
business.  Through  the  men  on  shore  we  found  the  meaning 
of  this  espionage.  It  appeared  that  the  story  had  got  about 
that  we  were  on  the  track  of  buried  treasure,  and  they  took  our 
divagations  as  made  to  throw  them  off  the  track.  From  their 
point  of  view  the  proof  of  our  purpose  was  clear.  We  were  not 
fishing,  nor  trading,  nor  wrecking,  and  as  we  were  apparently 
sane,  evidently  not  seafarers,  and  under  a  skipper  who  knew 
what  he  was  about,  the  inference  was  plain  that  we  were  after 
something  of  value  underground.  Our  search  afoot  of  long 
shores  showed  clearly  that  we  were  looking  for  the  signs  left 
by  Captain  Kidd,  who  had  been  there  as  everywhere.  "Logic 
is  logic,  that's  all  I  say,"  was  the  sum  of  their  considerations. 
Thus  informed  as  to  the  state  of  mind  of  our  companions  of 
many  weeks,  I  went  to  the  skipper  of  one  of  the  craft  and  told 
him  what  I  had  heard  and  what  we  were  about.  He  evidently 
disbelieved  me,  though  he  was  decent  about  it;  so  I  had  him  on 
board  and  showed  him  what  we  were  stowing  away  in  the  hold : 
great  slabs  of  limestone  and  barrels  of  bits  of  rock  of  queer 
shapes.  I  tried  to  make  him  see  what  fossils  meant  to  us,  but 
he  at  the  end  slipped  quietly  away,  convinced,  it  was  clear, 
that  he  had  escaped  from  a  floating  lunatic  asylum. 


CAPE  BRETON  FISHERMEN  159 

At  Ellis  Bay,  we  had  much  contact  with  the  Cape  Breton 
fishing  crews.  It  was  a  fair  shelter  against  the  easterly  gales 
which  seemed  the  standard  weather  of  the  region.  These  folk 
interested  me  greatly.  As  compared  with  the  New  England 
sailors,  they  were  miserably  poor  in  ship's  outfit  and  all  else  of 
theunessentials;  at  heart  they  were  as  sound  a  folk  as  I  have 
ever  found,  largely  of  the  Highland  Scotch  stock,  mingled  with 
the  French  of  the  Acadian  colonies.  They  were  essentially  Celts, 
and  many  of  them  spoke  only  Gaelic.  Their  innate  courtesy, 
and  the  fact  that  they  did  not  "rub  into  "  us  the  matter  of  the 
war  between  the  States  —  as  the  Nova-Scotians  and  the  New- 
Brunswickers  were  wont  to  do  —  helped  to  the  friendliness  we 
soon  reached.  Our  relations  began  with  a  Sunday  afternoon 
visit  of  a  crew  from  a  craft  anchored  near  us.  I  opened  to 
them  my  bag  of  tobacco,  holding  the  stuff  then  popular  with 
students.  It  did  not  contain  much  that  was  noxious,  being 
composed  mainly,  as  I  had  found  on  careful  examination,  of 
willow  bark  and  various  kinds  of  aromatic  beans.  The  skipper 
then  produced  from  his  pocket  a  cloth,  which,  being  unrolled, 
disclosed  the  remains  of  a  dudeen  with  part  of  the  stem  about 
an  inch  long.  After  a  few  whiffs,  he  passed  it  to  the  mate; 
and  thus  it  went  the  round  of  the  party  Indian-fashion.  I  did 
not  at  once  see  the  meaning  of  this  passage  of  the  pipe,  but 
found  that  it  was  the  only  one  left  in  their  ship.  I  asked  them 
how  they  liked  my  brand ;  they  said  it  was  better  than  moss, 
which  they  had  been  smoking  for  some  months.  Now  was  the 
time  to  bring  out  our  store  of  pipes  and  navy  tobacco.  Each 
was  given  a  pipe  and  a  pound  of  the  rank  stuff,  —  few  kings 
have  had  a  chance  to  bestow  such  largess.  The  dear  fellows 
would  not  take  more  than  a  pound  apiece  even  when  pressed 
to  do  so.  They  said  that,  mixed  with  moss,  it  would  serve  until 
they  were  home  again. 

At  Anticosti,  and  afterward  at  Mingan  on  the  Labrador  shore, 
I  saw  for  the  first  time  scurvy,  that  ancient  woe  of  the  seas  and 
of  the  lands  as  well.  Nearly  every  crew  had  cases  of  it,  and  in 


160  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

some  of  them  all  of  the  men  were  thus  affected.  They  seemed 
to  regard  the  woe  as  in  the  course  of  nature  —  to  be  borne  as  all 
else  of  their  hard  lives  must  be  borne.  We  had  a  lot  of  anti- 
scorbutics laid  in  for  such  use,  which  proved  helpful.  I  knew 
little  about  it,  yet  I  knew  that  the  great  need  was  of  a  vegetable 
diet.  So  I  persuaded  them  to  eat  the  leaves  of  the  Rumex  Ace- 
tosella,  which  for  a  long  season  are  plentiful  in  all  this  part  of 
the  world.  My  patients,  as  I  saw  them  from  time  to  time  in  the 
summer,  seemed  to  prosper.  They  were  grateful  and  offered 
payment  in  fish,  their  only  store.  In  fact,  I  gained  by  my 
medical  service,  which  was  kept  well  within  narrow  limits,  a 
curious  place  with  these  people,  who  were  in  need  of  such  help. 
From  Anticosti  we  went  to  the  Hudson's  Bay  Station  of  Min- 
gan  and  the  neighboring  part  of  Labrador,  where  we  spent  a 
week  or  so  examining  the  interesting  geology  of  the  coast,  and 
watching  the  Indians,  who  in  considerable  numbers  had  come 
in  for  their  annual  trading.  They  came  out  of  the  wilderness, 
through  its  tangle  of  waterways,  with  great  bundles  of  furs,  and, 
in  exchange,  took  back  their  trifling  return  of  guns,  ammuni- 
tion, tea,  etc.  It  was  a  hard  bargaining  they  had  to  do  with 
the  officers  of  the  factory.  I  saw,  for  instance,  a  razeed  flintlock 
musket,  dear  at  two  dollars,  bartered  for  a  lot  of  furs  which 
would  certainly  have  sold  for  a  hundred  in  Boston.  The  head 
factor,  who  received  us  very  kindly  when  our  official  letter  was 
shown,  was,  as  seemed  to  be  the  rule  in  those  days  in  the  great 
company,  a  Scotchman,  as  were  his  helpers.  Apparently  he 
had  the  natives  in  perfect  control,  which  was  kindly  but  of  an 
inevitable  quality.  They  submitted  to  him  as  well-trained 
children  to  a  father.  He  spoke  their  language  with  fluency, 
settled  their  quarrels,  cared  for  their  maladies,  was  a  kind  of 
god  to  them.  He  made  one  insistent  request  of  us,  —  that  we 
should  not  trade  with  his  people;  but  if  we  desired  to  bargain 
for  anything,  he  would  manage  the  trade  for  us.  This,  he  said, 
was  the  one  rule  to  which  the  officer  of  the  company  had  to 
subject  his  guests.  It  was  plain  enough  that  the  moderate 


THE  PRINCE  OF  WALES  AT  MINGAN        161 

profits  of  the  company  depended  on  keeping  out  competitors. 
It  was  the  one  instance  I  have  ever  seen  where  a  monopoly 
was  altogether  defensible,  indeed  commendable,  for  these 
admirably  administered  trading-posts  have  been  a  vast  blessing 
to  the  savages  of  the  North.  They  have  kept  a  part  of  the  abo- 
rigines from  the  ruin  which  has  elsewhere  overtaken  their  kind. 
I  have  since  seen  something  of  the  management  of  the  same 
quality  of  aborigines  in  the  western  part  of  the  United  States; 
the  difference  between  the  two  systems  is  all  there  can  be  in 
human  affairs. 

While  we  were  at  Mingan,  the  then  Prince  of  Wales  came 
there  for  salmon-fishing  in  the  river  of  the  name.  One  day  our 
friend  the  factor  said  that  he  would  be  glad  to  take  me  to  the 
place  where  His  Royal  Highness  was  having  his  sport  and  pre- 
sent me  to  him.  I  asked  him  if  the  prince  had  expressed  a  wish 
to  see  us.  Finding  that  he  had  not  done  so,  —  probably  he  did 
not  know  we  were  on  the  planet,  —  I  told  our  good  friend  that 
His  Highness  was  doubtless  glad  to  get  out  of  the  tiresome 
business  of  presentations,  and  that  I  had  not  the  heart  to  in- 
trude upon  his  solitude;  so  I  lost  the  chance  to  see  the  youth 
who  is  now  king. 

At  Mingan,  I  found  that  my  reputation  as  a  medical  man  had 
preceded  me,  borne  by  some  of  the  crews  we  knew,  so  I  was 
again  in  practice.  I  was  glad  to  help  as  far  as  my  limited  know- 
ledge went,  and  glad  when  the  training  my  father  had  given 
me  from  childhood  could  be  of  use.  Most  of  the  cases  were  of 
a  simple  nature,  nearly  all  from  bad  food,  taking  the  shape  of 
scurvy,  or  they  were  sprains,  such  as  simple  bandaging  would 
help.  In  a  small  way  I  helped  some  of  the  sufferers,  which  gave 
me  much  pleasure;  but  one  day  a  married  man  came  to  me, 
saying  that  his  wife  was  shortly  to  lie  in,  and  that  he  bespoke 
my  services.  I  told  him  that  we  had  need  of  going  straightway 
to  Gaspe  in  New  Brunswick.  My  medical  practice  evidently 
was  getting  me  into  deep  water. 

At  Gaspe*,  we  were,  after  some  three  months  beyond  its 


162     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

bounds,  again  in  civilization.  There  we  found  a  pretty  village 
with  stores,  and  nice  families  of  refined  people.  One  household 
I  remember  where  there  was  much  music.  Above  all,  we  found 
a  chance  to  buy  sugar,  which  we  had  lacked  for  several  weeks, 
having  given  away  our  store  to  the  needy  people  at  the  Anticosti 
lighthouse.  Since  our  keg  of  molasses  had  been  in  some  way 
lost,  probably  washed  overboard,  as  were  the  most  of  our  pro- 
visions at  one  time  or  another  in  our  endless  threshings  by  the 
seas,  we  had  gone  without  sweetening  for  a  long  time.  On  the 
general  theory  that  we  were  hardy  fellows  well  returned  to 
the  savage  state,  we  thought  that  we  did  not  need  that  grace  to 
our  food.  But  the  hunger  for  it  was  much  worse  than  that  for 
tobacco,  which  was  also  lacking,  —  even  the  keg  of  "  nigger 
head"  was  empty.  It  was  evident  that  the  hunger  was  not  due 
to  mere  habit,  but  was  physiological  in  its  intensity.  When 
we  came  by  sugar  we  at  once  consumed  about  half  a  pound 
apiece  of  it,  and  for  a  month  we  were  hungry  for  it. 

The  Gasp£  district  proved  an  interesting  geological  field, 
rich  especially  in  the  deposits  of  the  Oriskany  period,  which 
abounded  in  fossils.  Nowhere  else  do  the  rocks  of  that  time 
show  the  seas  to  have  been  so  thronged  with  brachiopods. 
Moreover,  here  for  the  first  time  we  found  the  Paleozoic  strata 
affected  by  mountain-building  stresses.  In  this  field  we  have 
the  finish  of  the  work  done  through  the  ages  in  building  the 
various  mountain-ranges  of  the  Appalachian  system.  What  is 
left  of  these  final  ridges  consists  of  elevations  having  no  great 
height,  nor  is  the  distended  terrane  of  much  width.  As  before 
noted,  the  strata  on  Anticosti,  which  is  nearly  in  the  line  of 
the  Notre  Dame  Mountains,  are  singularly  undisturbed,  nor 
are  there  any  signs  of  a  continuation  of  this  line  of  disloca- 
tions on  the  Labrador  shore.  Therefore  I  came  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  the  great  eastern  system  of  North  America  here 
found  its  end. 

I  made  one  or  two  short  excursions  into  the  interior  of  the 
Gasp£  peninsula,  seeking  to  get  further  information  of  its  struct- 


BACK  TO  BOSTON  AND  EASTPORT          163 

ure ;  but  the  traversable  ways  were  few.  At  one  point  not  many 
miles  from  the  ship  was  an  exposure  of  the  Oriskany  section, 
where  we  obtained  a  great  quantity  of  fossils.  I  managed  to 
get  a  horse  and  wagon  near  the  place  and  thus  to  satisfy  the 
natural  greed  for  quantity.  We  brought  along  about  a  thou- 
sand pounds  of  these  treasures. 

At  Mingan  we  had  heard  from  some  Canadians  rumors  of  a 
great  battle  between  the  Union  and  Confederate  troops  near 
Washington,  but  it  seemed  probable  that  it  was  no  more  than 
rumor;  at  Gaspe",  however,  where  we  arrived  early  in  September, 
we  learned  about  the  battle  of  Bull  Run  and  saw  clearly  that  the 
two  sections  of  the  country  were  in  the  clutch.  To  me  the  sit- 
uation was  somewhat  less  exciting  than  to  the  others,  for  I  was 
sure  that  my  own  state  would  cling  to  its  neutrality,  a  course 
of  action  which  I  knew  had  been  well  determined  on  and  which 
I  individually  meant  to  follow  so  long  as  the  commonwealth  did. 
But  Hyatt,  who  was  a  Marylander,  felt  that  the  combat  was 
near  his  doors.  The  others  of  the  party  were  likewise  impatient 
of  the  wilderness.  So  a  month  sooner  than  we  had  reckoned 
for  the  earliest  possible  start  on  the  return,  we  tugged  our  an- 
chor for  the  last  time  in  the  St.  Lawrence  and  set  out  for  home. 
For  the  first  time  in  three  months  the  winds  favored  us,  and 
we  had  a  swift  straightaway  run  through  the  Northumberland 
Channel,  close  to  the  beautiful  shores  of  Prince  Edward  Island, 
thence  again  through  the  Strait  of  Canso,  now  unpeopled  of 
ships,  and  thence  to  Boston  to  discharge  our  cargo,  somfc  ten 
tons  of  fossils  and  much  of  pickled  specimens.  As  sailors  were 
not  to  be  had  because  of  the  government  demand  for  them  on 
the  improvised  war  fleet,  I  helped  work  the  ship  back  to  East- 
port  to  settle  accounts.  I  there  found  Stimpson,  who  showed 
his  merry  humor  in  the  meeting.  The  tide  was  low  when  we 
laid  the  craft  to  the  wharf,  and  it  was  near  dark.  Learning  of 
our  arrival,  he  stood  above  us,  asked  who  we  were,  and  was 
given  other  names  than  our  own,  with  a  yarn  of  our  having 
been  left  behind  in  the  wilderness.  He  slid  down  the  stays  and 


164     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

talked  with  us  some  time  before  he  found  out  the  deception. 
We  had  so  changed,  he  said,  that  he  could  hardly  recognize  us. 
We  had  been  through  a  rough  changing  experience.  I  remember 
that  I  had  worn  no  hat  for  two  months  and  found  it  agreeable 
to  trust  for  protection  to  my  shock  of  hair.  Our  bibulous  friend 
called  for  something  to  drink  by  way  of  celebration.  We  then 
remembered  that  we  had  a  dozen  bottles  of  old  Jamaica  rum 
which  had  been  presented  to  us  at  Liverpool,  Nova  Scotia,  and 
which  we  intended  to  give  to  Skipper  Small.  Stimpson  found 
it  so  good  that  he  declared  people  who  would  carry  such  a 
potable  for  three  months  without  touching  it  had  no  real  title 
to  it.  Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  he  pocketed  two  bottles, 
climbed  up  the  stays,  and  went  away  to  his  den  with  it ;  returned 
to  repeat  the  process,  and  in  six  journeys  lightened  us  of  the  lot. 
When  begged  that  he  would  leave  at  least  one  bottle  he  seemed 
indignant  at  the  suggestion. 

On  looking  back  over  the  experiences  of  the  Labrador  expe- 
dition, I  now  see  that  it  was  the  most  profitable  journey  I  have 
ever  made.  In  after  years,  Hyatt,  who  was  a  yachtsman,  said 
that  as  we  took  it,  it  was  an  exceedingly  dangerous  expedition, 
and  that  we  ought  not  to  have  come  back  at  all.  It  is  true  the 
craft  was  unsea worthy ;  many  times  we  had  to  climb  under  the 
hull  when  we  had  allowed  the  ship  to  ground  with  the  falling 
tide,  and  calk  the  seams  as  best  we  could.  Working  along  the 
harborless  coast  of  Anticosti,  we  several  times  had  a  hard  fight 
for  our  offing  when  a  sudden  on-shore  gale  came  up,  —  and 
they  would  come  out  of  a  clear  sky.  But  we  had  a  good  leader, 
who,  while  he  was  always  croaking  of  dangers  to  come,  was  no 
croaker  when  they  were  on  us,  but  a  great,  strong  man,  and  we 
ourselves  seemed  to  have  no  sense  of  danger. 

As  all  those  who  have  made  hard  campaigns  know,  discom- 
fort, such  as  we  became  accustomed  to,  much  lessens  the  love 
of  life.  In  fact,  that  fancy  for  continuous  existence  is  in  some 
measure  the  product  of  ease  and  comfort,  while  what  we  call 
bravery  is  largely  but  merely  a  hard-minded  state  which  suffer- 


THE  VALUE  OF  THE  COMMON  MAN         165 

ing  induces  even  where  men  are  not  clearly  conscious  that  they 
are  in  torment. 

>*The  most  valuable  results  I  had  from  my  three  months  of 
adventure  in  the  St.  Lawrence  was,  in  the  first  place,  a  bettered 
sense  of  what  the  world  was  in  its  larger  aspects.  It  is  one 
thing  to  behold  the  sea  from  the  shore  and  quite  another  to 
battle  with  it  for  your  desires,  even  for  your  life.  From  the 
rude  life  I  had  on  that  journey  there  came  to  me  a  sense  of  the 
actuality  of  the  earth  which  has  served  me  all  my  days;  near 
to  this  sense  of  primeval  earth  is  the  sense  of  primitive  or,  at 
least,  uncomplicated  men,  such  as  I  came  in  contact  with  among 
our  fellow  seafarers/ The  unchangeableness  of  the  great  water 
extends  to  those  whose  lives  are  shaped  by  their  dealings  with 
it.  Among  the  provincial  sailors  I  was  with  the  companions  of 
Ulysses.  They  would  have  mingled  well  with  the  crews  of  the 
ships  that  bore  the  Greeks  to  Troy,  for  they  had  like  souls— 
with  the  same  valor,  the  same  simple  faiths  and  fears.  These 
men  taught  me  much  of  human  nature.  I  found  in  them  the 
value  of  the  common  man  as  I  probably  should  have  found  it 
nowhere  else ;  for  it  is  so  well  hidden  in  our  more  organized  so- 
cieties that  many  persons  far  more  discerning  than  myself  fail 
for  all  their  lives  to  see  the  meaning  of  ordinary  life,  and  so  fail 
to  get  the  most  important  teaching  the  world  has  to  give.  In 
a  way,  I  had  been  prepared  for  this  coming  revelation  by  my 
contact  with  the  frontier  type  of  man  in  Kentucky.  But  at  his 
best,  the  man  of  the  forests  and  plains  cannot  compare  with  the 
seaman  in  the  even,  rounded  culture  of  human  quality.  As  I 
had  known  him  in  Kentucky,  he  was  a  fine  fellow  of  the  con- 
quering type.  He  had  beaten  his  brute  and  human  enemies 
and  subjugated  the  wilderness ;  but  he  had  never  well  learned 
what  it  was  to  follow  a  leader,  to  put  his  life  in  his  chief's 
hands  in  a  ceaseless  war  with  a  mastering  deep.  I  count  those 
brave,  stern  faces  I  met  in  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence  as  my  best 
teachers. 
Here  let  me  turn  aside  for  a  word  concerning  the  grim  aspect 


166     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

of  our  so-called  education,  which  makes  it  well-nigh  impossible 
for  our  youth  of  the  higher  classes  to  have  any  intimate  con- 
tacts with  men  who  may  teach  him  what  is  the  real  nature  of 
his  kind.  He  sees  those  only  who  are  so  formalized  by  training 
and  the  uses  of  society  that  they  show  him  a  work  of  art  in 
human  shape.  He  thus  has  to  deal  with  his  fellows  in  terms 
which  are  not  those  of  real  human  nature,  and  thereby  much 
of  his  own  is  never  awakened.  He  may  live  through  long  fair- 
appearing  years,  yet  fail  to  have  the  experiences  necessary  to 
humanize  him  fully.  I  have  known  many  an  ignorant  sailor 
or  backwoodsman  who,  because  he  had  been  brought  into  sym- 
pathetic contact  with  the  primitive  qualities  of  his  kind,  was 
humanely  a  better  educated  man  than  those  who  pride  them- 
selves on  their  culture.  The  gravest  problem  of  civilization  is 
in  my  opinion  how  we  are  to  teach  human  quality  in  a  system 
which  tends  ever  more  and  more  to  hide  it. 
/"As  for  the  scientific  results  of  the  Anticosti  expedition,  they 
were  to  me  of  much  and  enduring  value.  In  the  first  place,  I 
saw  then — and  the  impression  has  stayed  with  me  — the  great 
interest  which  relates  to  the  contact  of  sea  and  land.  Some- 
thing of  this  I  had  gained  in  tramping  the  shores  of  Massachu- 
setts, but  this  journey  gave  me  a  sense  of  its  range  and  scope 
I  could  not  otherwise  have  gained.  You  do  not  gain  this  by 
mere  travel;  you  may  sail  along  thousands  of  miles  of  shore 
without  winning  more  than  faint  impressions  of  what  is  going 
on  there,  but  if  you  have  to  fight  with  the  surf  and  in-shore 
currents,  study  harborages  for  their  value  as  shelters,  and  learn 
by  experience  what  a  lee  shore  means,  you  become  curiously 
well  acquainted  with  the  facts  —  you  feel  and  do  not  merely 
see  them.  With  this  personal  sense  of  the  shores  came  the 
perception  that  each  feature  —  not  only  the  details  of  form, 
but  the  large  elements  of  the  geography  as  well  —  not  only 
had  a  history,  but  was  in  some  way  a  record  of  it.  I  believe 
that  this  sense  of  the  chronicle  in  things,  though  in  some  meas- 
ure established  in  my  mind  as  a  thesis,  first  came  to  me  as  a 


RESULTS  OF  THE  EXPEDITION  167 

real  feature  during  this  journey.  I  remember  being  much  inter- 
ested in  the  problem  of  how  the  island  of  Anticosti,  with  its  per- 
fectly undisturbed  strata,  could  have  obtained  its  salience.  The 
same  question  was  asked  me  by  the  other  islands  and  capes  of 
the  Gulf  district.  I  came  then  to  the  hypothesis  that  the  whole 
region  had  been  recently  much  higher  than  at  present,  and  had 
remained  so  long  enough  for  broad  valleys  to  be  formed,  and 
that  these  islands  were  the  higher  part  of  the  divides  between 
them.  I  recall  trying  from  the  charts  to  construct  a  plan  of  the 
ancient  drainage,  by  extending  the  main  St.  Lawrence  valley 
out  to  the  sea,  platting  in  tributary  vales.  In  this  scheme  the 
peculiar  channel  of  the  Strait  of  Canso  puzzled  me  much;  I  had 
to  account  for  it,  as  for  certain  other  features  which  did  not 
accord  with  the  hypothesis,  by  the  supposition  that  glacial 
action  had  done  much  to  change  the  shape  of  the  stream  to- 
pography formed  before  the  last  ice  came.  These  speculations, 
fairly  true,  show  that  for  a  youth  of  twenty,  in  that  state  of 
geology,  I  reacted  well  on  the  things  which  came  before  me.  / 
I  found  the  fossils  of  Anticosti  very  fascinating;  some  of 
them  showed  themselves  at  a  glance  to  be  closely  related  to 
those  of  the  Cincinnati  horizon  with  which  I  was  familiar,  yet 
there  were  many  forms  entirely  new  to  me,  and  some  with 
which  I  was  familiar  had  a  changed  aspect.  Those  gigantic 
fossil  sponges  found  in  the  deposits  at  about  the  level  of  the 
vitric  shale  at  Brating  Point,  forming  fluted  columns  sometimes 
eight  inches  in  diameter  and  six  or  eight  feet  in  length,  puzzled 
me  much.  Hyatt,  even  then  concerned  with  the  nautiloid 
cephalopods,  judged  them  to  be  akin  to  the  lower  known  forms 
of  this  group,  though  he  afterwards  abandoned  that  view,  even 
before  James  Hall  determined  their  affinities.  These  archi- 
tecturally noble  structures  were  then  deemed  peculiar  to  this 
field;  but  about  fifteen  years  thereafter  I  found  them  in  an- 
other specific  form  of  somewhat  lesser  size  in  Nelson  County, 
Kentucky,  at  about  the  same  horizon.  Certain  of  the  peculiari- 
ties of  the  Anticosti  species  of  fossils  as  compared  with  those 


168     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

found  in  the  southern  part  of  the  Ohio  valley  attracted  my 
attention.  Thus  at  a  glance  it  was  evident  that  the  northern 
forms  of  the  lynx  was  far  less  varied  than  those  of  Kentucky. 
The  same  decrease  in  local  variation  appeared  in  all  the  other 
species  occurring  in  the  northern  locality  as  I  in  memory  com- 
pared them  with  the  more  southern  kindred.  I  still  think  that 
this  difference  was  well  observed,  and  that  it  was  due  to  the 
colder  climate  of  the  more  boreal  station.  I  have  since  noted 
in  very  many  species  in  diverse  groups,  as  for  instance  in  the 
Virginia  oyster,  that  the  range  in  the  variation  of  the  form 
diminishes  as  the  temperature  of  the  water  in  which  they  dwell 
becomes  lower.  Something  of  the  same  nature  is  observable 
in  many  species  of  plants.  It  is  likely  to  prove  somewhat  general 
in  organic  forms. 

Probably  the  largest  profit  I  found  in  the  voyage  about  the 
shores  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  came  to  me  from  the  discomfort 
and  the  danger  there  encountered.  Our  conditions  were  in 
both  these  regards  rather  worse  than  those  of  the  common 
fisherman ;  for  in  addition  to  the  labor  and  trials  of  those  who 
go  down  to  the  sea  for  fish,  we  had  to  cleave  to  lee  shores  and 
to  fight  our  way  through  the  surf  to  study  the  land.  It  was 
very  hard  work  in  fairly  hard  danger.  We  did  not  see  it  at  the 
time,  but  I  can  recall  that  it  made  a  curiously  strong  impression 
on  our  skipper  and  on  the  sailors  we  met.  We  had  among  them 
the  reputation  of  being  dare-devils.  All  this  was  well  for  us, 
for  the  best  you  can  do  for  a  boy  is  to  expose  him  to  hardships 
which  bring  him  nigh  to  death.  Being  by  two  or  three  years 
the  youngest  of  the  party,  and  moreover  rather  delicate,  I 
wonder  that  I  did  not  suffer  illness,  through  exposure  where 
we  were  not  dry  for  weeks  at  a  time,  when  we  were  badly  and 
irregularly  fed,  scaly  and  bruised  all  over  from  our  hard  knocks, 
with  our  legs  from  the  knees  down  blue  from  the  whacks  in 
tugging  at  the  old-fashioned  windlass  to  get  up  the  anchor,  or 
knocked  about  in  our  surf  work.  Moreover,  I  was  sea-sick  in 
any  storm,  though  I  managed  to  keep  up  sailor's  duty;  I  did 


DISCOMFORT  AND  DANGER  169 

not  lose  a  watch.  That  this  was  trying,  a  little  incident  well 
shows.  At  the  end  of  a  hard  "trick,"  I  started  for  my  bunk, 
but  in  my  weariness  sat  on  the  edge  of  a  boat  which  was  lashed 
on  deck  and  partly  filled  by  the  boarding  seas;  I  slipped  into 
the  water  and  was  found  there  by  the  skipper  sound  asleep  — 
and  was  none  the  worse  for  it.  There  were  weeks  at  a  time  when 
we  worked  as  men  do  who  are  fighting  for  life;  the  curious  thing 
is  we  did  not  notice  it  until  long  afterward. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   FIRST   YEAR   OF   THE   WAR 

WHEN  we  returned  to  Cambridge  we  encountered  a  curious 
sense  of  change  which  had  taken  place  in  our  three  months  of 
absence.  When  we  left  the  feeling  was  general  that  the  outbreak 
of  the  South  was  a  mere  insurrection  which  would  be  quieted 
by  some  small  show  of  power  on  the  part  of  the  North,  or,  if  it 
did  not  quickly  subside,  that  there  would  be  a  spontaneous 
movement  by  the  slaves  for  freedom,  which  would  put  an  end 
to  the  revolt  by  giving  their  masters  business  enough  to  attend 
to  at  home.  I  knew  better,  for  I  had  a  nearer  sense  of  the  mo- 
tives of  the  Southern  people  and  of  the  state  of  mind  of  the 
slaves;  though  I  did  not  think  that  the  rebellion  would  develop 
power  so  rapidly,  I  fully  expected  the  war  to  last  for  many 
years.  To  my  friends  in  Cambridge  the  episode  of  Bull  Run, 
and  the  evidence  that  the  Confederates  were  indeed  in  earnest, 
was  a  surprise;  it  had  brought  out  the  dour  element  of  the  New- 
Englander  to  such  an  extent  that  the  look  of  the  people  on  the 
street  had  visibly  changed. 

I  found  my  master  Agassiz  greatly  disturbed ;  all  along  he  had 
taken  the  war  as  an  end  to  his  hopes.  I  recall  how  in  that  mis- 
erable time  of  the  bombardment  of  Sumter,  when  we  South- 
erners hung  about  the  newspaper  and  telegraph  offices  all 
night  watching  for  news,  I  found  him  in  the  gray  dawn  walking 
in  Divinity  Avenue  weeping,  almost  raving  in  his  misery.  I 
remember  how  he  cried,  "They  will  Mexicanize  the  country," 
and  my  saying  to  him  that  we  were  a  people  who  would  do  a 
lot  of  fighting,  but  come  out  of  it  all  in  the  English  way,  with 
order  and  decency  in  the  end.  The  fact  that  in  a  few  weeks 
after  Sumter  the  North  settled  down  to  the  business  of  prepara- 
tion gave  Agassiz  courage;  but  with  the  certainty  of  a  long  grap- 


KENTUCKY  IN  1861  171 

pie  which  was  on  us  in  September,  1861,  he  again  began  to  lose 
heart.  The  fact  is,  he  did  not  see,  he  could  not  be  expected  to 
understand,  the  curious  nature  of  our  people.  He  could  not 
conceive  that  the  country  was  undergoing  a  process  of  growth 
of  which  those  years  of  misery  were  but  the  pains. 

After  the  collections  made  on  the  Anticosti  expedition  had 
been  properly  stored  in  the  Museum  I  went  to  Kentucky  for  a 
look  over  the  situation,  visiting  Frankfort  and  Lexington  for  a 
talk  with  my  friends  of  both  sides.  I  found  that  the  plan  of  the 
Union  men  of  my  stripe,  those  who  held  for  State  Rights  under 
the  Federal  bond,  had  been  skilfully  carried  out,  and  that  the 
commonwealth  seemed  tolerably  sure  of  its  neutral  station  for 
some  months  to  come.  There  were  serious  features  in  the 
situation.  The  people  were  evidently  in  a  process  of  division, 
in  which  the  majority  was  drifting  toward  what  was  called  the 
Union  side,  while  a  large  minority,  —  we  guessed  at  about  two- 
fifths,  —  led  by  the  example  of  Breckinridge,  Buckner,  Roger 
Hanson,  and  a  host  of  the  able,  high-placed  men  who  had  already 
entered  the  Confederate  army,  were  leaning  more  and  more 
toward  rebellion.  The  governor  was  at  heart  in  sympathy  with 
the  seceding  states,  but  in  their  interest  he  held  to  his  place.  So 
far  as  he  could,  he  tried  to  do  his  duty  at  once  by  his  office  and 
the  law.  The  Unionists  now  controlled  the  Legislature  in  both 
houses  by  an  overwhelming  majority.  All  the  measures  looking 
toward  mutual  cooperation  with  the  Union  forces  were  promptly 
vetoed  and  as  promptly  passed  over  the  vetoes.  When  they  thus 
became  laws,  the  governor  would  provide  for  their  execution, 
or  rather  non-execution,  by  putting  them  into  the  hands  of 
Confederate  sympathizers.  It  was  a  well-played  game  on  both 
sides,  but  our  side  stood  to  win;  we  had,  indeed,  the  cards  in 
hand  that  ensured  success;  barring  folly,  the  end  was  certain. 

My  admiration  for  the  way  in  which  the  anti-Secessionists  of 
Kentucky  manoeuvred  to  prevent  a  sympathetic  stampede  of 
the  commonwealth  into  the  Confederacy,  then  great,  has 
grown  with  time  and  the  wider  knowledge  of  the  ways  of  men. 


172     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

The  man  I  trusted  most  for  guidance,  my  neighbor  and  near 
friend,  John  W.  Finnell,  was  then  adjutant-general  of  the  com- 
monwealth and  effectively  in  lead  of  the  manoeuvring.  He  had 
remarkable  ability  in  judging  and  guiding  action,  and  to  him 
more  than  to  any  other  one  among  a  host  of  real  statesmen  who 
have  shaped  the  destinies  of  the  country,  the  preservation  of 
Kentucky  to  the  Union,  and  the  eventual  success  of  the  North, 
was  due.  I  shall  have  more  to  say  of  him  hereafter.  I  need 
here  but  note  the  state  of  affairs  as  they  were  in  the  autumn 
of  1861,  as  set  before  me  by  Finnell  and  by  an  old  family  friend, 
also  one  of  the  masters  of  fate,  James  F.  Robinson,  of  whom 
there  is  also  much  to  be  told  further  on  in  my  story. 

The  plan  of  those  who  at  this  time  had  control  of  the  Leg- 
islature of  Kentucky,  and  thus  of  its  destiny,  was,  in  brief,  that 
of  men  who  knew  how  to  wait.  They  recognized  that  the  seces- 
sion of  Virginia,  Tennessee,  and  probably  of  North  Carolina, 
was  due  to  an  excess  of  sympathetic  enthusiasm,  and  that  at  all 
costs,  even  to  the  point  of  seeming  cowardice,  they  must  en- 
force waiting.  At  this  stage  it  was  evident  that  the  attitude  of 
neutrality,  already  little  more  than  a  farce,  could  not  be  main- 
tained for  many  months  to  come.  It  was  believed  that  the 
Confederate  government  would  soon,  and  from  their  point  of 
view,  very  properly,  try  to  force  action  favorable  to  their  cause 
by  an  invasion  of  the  commonwealth.  The  aim  of  our  leaders 
was  to  force  such  action  under  conditions  which  would  lead  the 
wavering  people  to  regard  the  invaders  as  enemies.  It  was  also 
seen  to  be  good  policy  to  allow  the  sympathizers  with  the  re- 
bellion to  betake  themselves  to  the  Secession  standards  in  the 
several  recruiting  camps  which  had  been  established  in  Ten- 
nessee and  Virginia  for  their  reception.  Buckner,  and  many 
other  officers  of  the  state  guard,  a  force  organized  to  preserve 
the  neutral  position  of  Kentucky,  had  already  gone  to  those 
camps,  taking  with  them  a  large  part  of  that  force.  This  ex- 
odus, while  it  grimly  lessened  the  fighting  power  of  the  com- 
monwealth, made  the  end  surer. 


A  DIVIDED  PEOPLE  173 

I  recall  seeing  in  this  time  the  parties  of  recruits  going  their 
several  ways  to  their  appointed  places  in  the  opposing  armies, 
the  Unionists  to  Camp  Dick  Robinson  or  other  recruiting  points 
in  the  state,  and  the  Confederates  to  places  beyond  its  lines, 
where  the  most  of  them  were  to  leave  their  bones.  In  one  in- 
stance I  saw  groups  of  these  parting  men  pass  on  the  way  with 
salute  and  courtesy;  we  had  got  by  the  first  fury  of  the  debate, 
that  of  hot  words,  and  were  making  ready  for  the  tussle  which 
both  sides  knew  would  be  hard.  It  was  evident  that  the  Con- 
federacy was  to  have  what  seemed  to  be  —  and  indeed  was  — 
the  flower  of  our  youth  and  manhood ;  nearly  all  the  young  men 
who  by  their  qualities  seemed  to  be  the  natural  leaders  of  their 
generation,  cast  in  their  lot  with  the  South.  There  remained 
a  strong  body  of  the  middle-aged  and  the  old,  the  abler  of  the 
generations  that  were  passing  and  the  youths  of  the  plainer  sort, 
more  numerous  than  we  then  judged  them  to  be,  whose  reason 
discounted  their  sympathies ;  for  it  is  to  be  confessed  that  all 
of  us  were  in  a  sense  sympathizers  with  the  South  in  our  hearts 
-  it  was  our  heads  that  kept  us  in  the  Union.  In  that  time  it 
was  the  presumption,  the  fatal  presumption,  of  Breckinridge 
and  his  advisers  that  this  social  sympathy  would  force  all  of  us 
who  were  well-born  to  cast  aside  our  rational  part  and  to  join 
with  them.  Thus  while  I  was  known  as  a  Unionist  of  the  States'- 
Rights  group,  I  found,  from  a  friend  who  had  gone  South  and 
was  captured  in  1862,  that  a  place  had  been  long  kept  for  me 
on  the  staff  of  a  certain  Confederate  general,  and  there  was 
surprise  that  I  had  not  turned  up  there.  At  the  moment,  this 
did  not  seem  to  me  strange,  though  it  gave  me  a  peculiar  kind 
of  grief  to  think  that  I  was  parted  from  my  friends.  Nearly  all 
those  friends  of  my  youth  were  then  under  the  Southern  flag, 
and  I  felt  curiously  lonely  in  being  parted  from  them.  So  far 
as  I  can  remember  of  the  some  score  with  whom  I  had  been  in 
intimate  association  only  Foley,  John  Mason  Brown,  and  James 
Jackson  were  on  the  Union  side. 

My  survey  of  the  situation  in  Kentucky  led  me  to  feel  that  I 


174  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

had  better  "stick  it  out"  in  Cambridge,  and  finish  my  work  for 
the  degree,  or  rather  for  the  training  I  was  seeking.  There  evi- 
dently would  be  time  enough  for  the  small  part  I  was  likely  to 
play  in  the  great  contest.  My  ambition  extended  no  farther 
than  to  a  place  in  the  ranks  of  the  troops  of  my  own  common- 
wealth and  a  small  share  in  the  task  of  keeping  States'  Rights 
safe  in  the  only  place  for  their  safety  —  the  Federal  Union. 
It  was  urged  on  me  that  I  should  go  into  the  regular  forces  of 
the  government,  but  this  meant  professional  soldiery,  for  which 
I  had  no  inclination  whatever.  The  first  plan  harmonized 
best  with  my  philosophy  of  life,  which,  though  it  may  have 
been  rather  callow,  was  mightily  helpful  to  me  in  that  soul- 
trying  time,  so  I  returned  to  Cambridge  and  set  about  my  task 
of  finishing  up  the  work  on  which  I  was  engaged. 

It  is  here  well  to  say  that  in  my  spare  time  from  1859  to  1862 
I  had  done  what  I  could  to  fit  myself  for  the  duties  of  a  soldier. 
As  before  noted,  I  had  been  brought  up  at  a  military  post  and 
from  before  memory  begins  was  familiar  with  the  life.  I  knew, 
as  a  lad  knows  men,  about  all  the  officers  of  the  regular  army 
who  came  to  prominence  on  either  side,  —  Lee,  Grant,  Sheri- 
dan, Albert  Sydney  Johnston,  and  many  others  of  the  great 
list.  All  the  usages  and  customs  of  military  life  were  tolerably 
familiar  to  me,  as  was  also  the  shape  of  arms.  In  my  child- 
hood I  had  been  in  an  infantile  way  war-mad  —  and  had  re- 
covered from  it.  When  I  went  to  Harvard,  I  felt  it  proper  to 
make  a  nearer,  man's  acquaintance  with  military  duty;  so  I 
joined  a  "drill  club,"  and  became  familiar  with  the  elements 
of  infantry  tactics;  I  worked  over  Hardee,  so  that  I  could  man- 
age a  battalion  at  short  notice,  and  I  read  Jomini,  and  found 
him  vastly  interesting.  Most  important  of  all  was  a  training 
which  lasted  for  three  years  at  Fort  Independence  in  Boston 
Harbor.  At  this  post  was  an  intimate  friend,  then  a  lieutenant 
of  artillery,  who  had  married  a  cousin  of  mine.  He  was  in  com- 
mand of  a  company  and  under  a  Major  Arnold,  an  able  officer 
who  had  been  in  the  Mexican  War.  At  this  time,  as  during  a 


AT  FORT  INDEPENDENCE  175 

part  of  the  three  years  in  question,  General  Rodman  was  ex- 
perimenting with  great  guns  at  that  station.  I  used  to  go  to 
the  fort  on  Friday  afternoons  and  to  bide  there  through  Satur- 
day, working  as  a  soldier  or  as  a  clerk,  doing  the  diverse  duties, 
including  those  of  inspection  and  reports.  In  this  way,  by  giv- 
ing perhaps  one  hundred  days  to  the  task,  I  became  tolerably 
well-instructed  in  the  principles  and  practice  of  artillery  work. 
There  was  much  exercise  in  sighting  guns  and  a  fair  amount  in 
target  practice,  where  I  was  allowed  to  "lay"  the  larger  pieces, 
criticising  the  pointing  of  the  men  before  they  were  fired,  so 
that  with  my  previous  practice  with  the  rifle,  I  could  count 
myself  fairly  well-trained  in  the  art  of  the  gunner.  All  this  left 
me,  of  course,  below  the  station  of  the  professional  soldier,  but 
it  made  me  distinctly  more  competent  than  the  novice  or  even 
most  of  the  young  men  who  as  volunteers  went  into  the  business. 
I  was  particularly  interested  in  General  Rodman's  experi- 
ments on  the  pressure  of  gunpowder  when  fired.  For  this  in- 
quiry he  had  bored  cylinders  in  the  walls  of  his  pieces,  as  I 
remember  them,  up  to  ten  inches  in  diameter;  each  of  these 
cylinders  was  fitted  with  a  piston  having  a  ridge-shaped  head, 
which  rested  on  a  plate  of  soft  composition  metal.  When  the 
charge  was  fired,  these  cylinder-heads  indented  the  plates  in 
proportion  to  the  pressure  which  they  had  received.  I  was 
allowed  to  take  some  share  in  these  testings,  which  were  most 
carefully  done,  and  obtained  through  this  chance  a  sense  of 
accurate  methods  which  helped  me  greatly.  In  each  series  of 
tests  the  gun  was  fired  with  increasing  charges  until  it  was 
burst ;  then  the  fragments  were  studied  to  determine  the  char- 
acter of  the  metal  and  the  seat  of  the  rupture.  So,  too,  after 
each  discharge  the  interior  of  the  bore  was  examined  with  the 
speculum,  to  ascertain  the  process  of  developing  the  incipient 
cracks  which  form  long  before  the  body  of  the  metal  gives  way. 
The  experience  thus  gained  I  found  very  useful  in  the  study  of 
dredging  machinery,  such  as  forty  years  afterwards  I  had 
to  deal  with  in  Montana.  Rodman  and  his  helpers  had  the 


176     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

strength-giving  quality  of  the  military  engineers  of  that  day; 
I  can  say  of  them  as  well  that  they  knew  how  to  interpret 
nature. 

My  friend,  then  Lieutenant  Thompson,  was  some  ten  years 
my  senior,  and  we  were  very  near  to  one  another.  He  was  a 
collateral  of  Benjamin  Thompson,  and  had  a  curious  likeness  to 
him  in  face  and  character.  He  was  an  able  man  in  his  profes- 
sion, a  hard  disciplinarian,  iron-willed,  though  of  a  very  mild 
manner.  He  was  for  the  most  of  the  time  really  commandant 
of  the  fort,  which,  as  I  recall,  had  a  garrison  of  two  companies, 
composed  of  men  of  a  more  mutinous  quality  than  I  had  been  ac- 
customed to  see  in  the  old  army.  His  favorite  punishment  was 
"stringing  up  by  the  thumbs,"  and  the  calm,  philosophic  way 
in  which  he  would  walk  around  the  wights  thus  suspended, 
commenting  the  while  on  their  state  of  torment,  extorted  my 
admiration,  and  showed  me  more  clearly  than  I  had  before 
seen  how  hard  are  the  ways  by  which  the  common  brutal  man 
is  broken  to  the  soldier's  trade.  He  was  never  cruel  in  this 
work,  merely  obdurately  effective.  I  have  never  seen  a  higher 
order  of  care  than  he  devoted  to  the  inspection  of  his  men  and 
all  that  related  to  their  well-being. 

In  1862  I  chanced  to  serve  for  a  time  under  Thompson,  then 
a  major,  in  charge  of  an  artillery  camp  of  a  dozen  batteries. 
They  were  a  bad  lot,  not  yet  well  broken  to  harness.  The  way  in 
which  he  battered  them  into  shape  fills  me  with  admiration  to 
this  day.  He  had  a  capacity  for  objurgation  which  was  in  a  way 
unique;  unlike  the  one  other  great  master  of  the  infernal  art, 
he  made  no  use  of  the  accepted  classic  phrases,  but  had  in- 
vented what  may  be  called  an  anecdotical  method  altogether 
his  own,  in  which  the  blister,  constructed  in  short  descriptive 
phrases,  was  calculated  to  remove  the  hide  of  the  toughest. 
His  applications  were  punctuated  by  the  grimmest  laugh  I 
have  ever  heard,  a  strange  hollow  cackle  with  no  trace  of  mirth 
in  it.  I  said  to  a  big  limberer  of  a  battery  I  knew,  who  had  just 
been  excoriated,  "Well, ,  what  do  you  think  of  that?"  Pale- 


A  DISCIPLINARIAN  177 

faced  and  shrunken  as  by  fear,  he  said  tremblingly,  "That  is 
Satan ;  that  is  Satan."  It  was  at  least  the  best  semblance  of  him 
I  have  ever  seen.  At  this  time  I  served  for  a  period  with  Major 
Thompson  in  inspecting  fortifications.  One  day  we  examined 
a  considerable  set  of  works  commanded  by  a  volunteer  colonel. 
In  his  ignorance  of  his  duty  this  officer  permitted  the  inspection 
to  be  made  in  great  detail,  without  having  required  of  us  any 
evidence  of  our  authority.  He  had  no  proof  save  our  uniforms 
as  to  our  right  to  make  it;  for  all  the  fellow  knew,  we  might 
have  been  Confederate  spies  —  and  much  such  work  was  done 
by  chaps  who  had  a  mind  to  take  the  risk.  By  the  bland  look 
of  his  face  and  his  soft  voice,  I  saw  that  my  chief  took  in  the 
situation,  and  meant  that  it  should  go  hard  with  the  unhappy 
colonel.  We  had  given  him  the  parting  salute  and  were  riding 
away  before  it  got  through  his  dull  wits  that  he  had  made  a 
fool  of  himself.  When  we  were  perhaps  a  hundred  yards  away, 
he  shouted  to  us  to  halt.  Major  Thompson  affected  not  to  hear 
him  and  it  was  not  my  part  to  interfere.  The  troubled  colonel 
then  called  on  his  guard  to  fire  on  us.  As  they  missed,  —  I 
doubt  if  they  intended  to  hit,  —  we  went  on  at  a  brisker  pace; 
then  more  shots  from  other  guards  kicked  up  the  dust  about  us. 
By  this  time  we  were  on  the  run  and  nearing  an  outpost  where 
a  dozen  men,  taking  in  the  situation,  were  making  ready.  I 
was  now  riding  by  him,  when  I  too  took  in  the  situation  and 
said  that  I  did  not  mean  to  be  shot  to  gratify  his  fury  and 
reined  up,  as  he  did  shortly  with  a  word  of  reproach  for  my  not 
helping  him  to  "break"  that  pretence  of  a  soldier.  He  left  it 
to  me  to  take  the  orders  back  to  the  commander  of  the  works. 
Major  Thompson  had  won  his  promotion  at  Malvern  Hill, 
where  with  his  battery  he  had  broken  the  Confederate  assault. 
I  was  told  by  one  of  his  subordinates  that  as  the  charge  came 
on  supported  by  a  heavy  artillery  fire,  Thompson  was  standing 
by  the  side  of  a  brick  building  watching  the  advance  with  his 
field-glasses  and  conning  the  fire  of  his  gunners.  A  shell  shook 
the  building  and  in  the  dust  and  smoke  he  was  lost  to  view; 


178     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

when  the  cloud  cleared  away  his  feet  were  where  they  had  been 
before;  he  had  just  finished  wiping  the  dust  from  the  lenses  and 
was  lifting  the  glasses  to  look  again.  I  asked  him  as  to  the  effect 
of  double  canister  at  close  quarters.  He  said :  "  It  seemed  as  if 
the  air  was  full  of  old  clothes."  This  man  has  ever  been  to  me 
the  true  type  of  the  soldier. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

MY   LAST   YEAE   AT   HARVARD 

THUS  far,  I  have  said  little  of  my  life  as  a  closet  student,  so 
that  the  effect  of  this  writing  may  be  to  give  the  impression 
that  my  days  were  spent  in  divagations.  I  find  no  students  in 
this  day  who  work  at  anything  like  the  rate  the  better  part  of 
Agassiz's  following  did  in  that  time.  It  was  my  custom  to  get 
to  my  work  by  eight  in  the  morning,  and  to  keep  at  it  until  one 
o'clock;  we  then  had  dinner,  and  expected  to  be  again  at  our 
desks  by  half -past  two,  working  there  usually  until  dark,  or  at 
least  until  five  o'clock.  We  then  went  to  the  gymnasium  or  had 
boxing-matches,  as  we  fancied,  for  half  an  hour.  At  six  we 
supped,  and  then  got  to  work  in  our  rooms.  We  managed  to 
get  about  seventy  hours  a  week  of  pretty  solid  business.  Once 
a  week,  or  oftener,  we  had  our  club-meetings,  and  after  them 
—  they  usually  ended  about  midnight  —  we  had  dance-music 
from  an  old  piano  in  our  common  room  and  a  Virginia  reel  with 
shouts  to  wake  the  dead.  These  midnight  uproars  sometimes 
brought  us  near  to  trouble.  There  was  no  proctor  in  our  build- 
ing, for  we  ranked  as  graduates,  but  across  the  way,  in  Divinity 
Hall,  proctored  Mr.  Sibley,  the  Librarian  of  the  College,  the  most 
proper  and  irascible  of  good  fellows.  He  often  reported  us  for 
disorder,  but  fortunately  there  dwelt  in  a  cottage  much  nearer  a 
dear  old  gentleman,  a  Mr.  Charles  Sanders,  who  happily  slept 
marvellously  well  and  who,  moreover,  had  not  forgotten  what  it 
was  to  be  a  boy.  He  was  always  ready  to  testify  that  we  were 
the  best-behaved  lot  of  youngsters  that  ever  were  in  college. 
As  the  College  had  expectations  from  the  old  man,  in  part  real- 
ized by  the  bequest  which  built  the  theatre,  his  evidence  had 
full  weight.  Besides,  we  managed  to  work  up  the  theory  that 
Sibley  was  subjected  to  nightmares  combined  with  somnam- 


180  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

bulism,  and  that  the  rackets  he  heard  were  really  of  his  own 
making  and  by  delusion  referred  to  his  neighbors. 

Our  routine  work  in  our  several  subjects  consisted  primarily 
in  comparing  a  succession  of  species  so  as  to  obtain  a  general 
idea  of  the  animal  kingdom;  this  comparison  was  applied  first 
to  their  general  morphology,  as  seen  from  the  outside,  and  then 
by  dissection  to  their  internal  parts.  As  a  guide  to  this  we  took 
Cuvier's  "  Le  Regne  Animal,"  the  idea  being  to  obtain  some- 
thing like  the  general  understanding  of  that  master  as  to  the 
range  of  forms.  In  this  task  I  made  a  tolerably  near  acquaint- 
ance with  perhaps  two  hundred  species,  and  compared  them,  as 
far  as  convenient,  with  their  kindred  as  shown  by  specimen 
plates  and  descriptions.  This  work  was  necessarily  crude,  but 
it  was  enlarging,  because  we  followed  the  changes  of  shape  and 
structure,  and  came  to  have  a  general  understanding  of  animals 
which  students  rarely  attain  in  the  modern  method  of  intense 
study.  As  I  was  intending  to  ask  for  my  degree  in  geology  it 
was  my  further  task  to  trace  back  the  history  of  the  living 
groups  through  the  geological  successions,  and  to  acquire  a 
knowledge  .as  to  the  several  horizons  as  well  as  the  distribution 
of  their  strata  over  the  earth's  surface.  I  had  also  to  get  up  the 
history  of  geology,  using  D'Archiac's  work  as  a  foundation  and 
to  trace  out  the  development  of  the  several  important  geolo- 
gical hypotheses,  and  also  to  acquaint  myself  with  mineralogy 
and  crystallography,  using  Brandont's  work  as  a  basis,  and 
helping  myself  from  the  good  teaching  of  Professor  J.  P.  Cooke. 

Besides  the  general  knowledge  of  our  subjects  which  Agassiz 
required,  we  were  expected  to  obtain  a  rather  specialized  ac- 
quaintance with  some  considerable  group  of  animals.  The 
group  assigned  to  me  was  the  Brachiopoda,  which  had  inter- 
ested me  from  childhood  —  almost  from  infancy.  This  order  I 
came  in  the  course  of  three  years  to  know  pretty  well.  At  the 
end  of  my  task  I  had  personally  examined  specimens  of  more 
than  three  fourths  of  the  described  species,  and  had  read  prac- 
tically all  the  literature  on  the  subject.  I  believe  that  I  could 


THESIS  ON  THE  BRACHIOPODA  181 

have  given  a  fair  account  of  at  least  ninety-five  per  cent  of  the 
species  which  had  been  described,  and  tabulated  the  synonymy 
reasonably  well.  I  dissected  representations  of  recent  species, 
and  did  like  work  with  some  twenty  species  of  fossil  forms,  by 
slicing  specimens  on  the  lathe  and  treating  with  acids. 

My  thesis  was  concerning  the  Brachiopoda  in  general,  with  a 
special  study  of  the  bilaterality  of  the  group.  It  was  an  argu- 
ment against  the  Darwinian  hypothesis  based  on  the  develop- 
ment of  the  second  series,  in  which  I  endeavored  in  the  first 
place  to  show  that  several  of  the  series  develop  at  great  organic 
cost  and  in  a  well-ordered  succession  of  changes,  features  which 
not  only  cannot  have  any  utility,  but  which  are  apparently 
disadvantageous,  as  for  instance  the  proboscis  —  like  exten- 
sions of  the  margins  of  the  shells  in  Producta,  the  exogenation 
of  the  mixed  folds  in  Orthis  biloba,  the  ridges  and  knees  of 
Leptina,  etc.  Then  I  discussed  the  development  of  the  lateral 
symmetry  particularly  in  the  spirifers  and  Rhynchonella,  en- 
deavoring to  show  that  the  lateral  balance  of  the  calcified  fur- 
rows of  the  so-called  arms  could  not  have  been  brought  about 
by  selection,  but  must  have  been  the  result  of  some  other  sym- 
metry-determining influence.  Incidentally,  I  tried  to  prove 
that  the  longitudinal  axis  of  the  brachiopod  did  not  lie  in  the 
plane  of  function  of  the  valves,  but  extended  from  the  centre 
of  one  to  the  centre  of  the  other,  at  right  angles  to  both.  I  have 
not  seen  this  thesis  since  it  was  delivered  to  the  examiners,  but 
as  I  recall  it,  it  was  a  worthy  piece  of  work,  creditable  to  the 
teaching  I  had  received.  It  contained  some  points  which 
pleased  Agassiz  greatly,  especially  the  study  of  symmetries. 
He  did  not  like  my  treatment  of  the  Darwinian  hypothesis,  for 
I  did  not  scout  it,  but  claimed  that,  while  its  general  value  was 
uncertain,  it  clearly  could  not  account  for  a  considerable  array 
of  facts, — natural  selection  in  a  word  could  not  explain  the 
development  of  the  group ;  there  was  a  suspicion  of  heresy  in 
the  way  the  matter  was  treated. 

That  work  such  as  I  did  in  the  Museum  could  be  done  at  all, 


182  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

was  due  to  the  marvellously  swift  way  in  which  Agassiz  accu- 
mulated collections  and  books  in  the  establishment.  He  was 
blamed  for  his  extravagance  in  these  purchases,  but  it  was  a 
wise  policy.  He  bought  the  cabinets  or  libraries  of  several 
workers,  of  which  the  most  important  were  those  of  D.  S.  Brown. 
His  own  library  was  rich,  and  there  were  many  valuable  things 
in  the  College  Library  and  that  of  the  Boston  Society  of  Natural 
History.  Brown's  cabinet  and  collections  brought  from  Cam- 
peche  by  Lyell  and  others  gave  me  larger  resources  to  draw 
upon  than  most  workers  have  had,  and,  what  was  most  import- 
ant, I  used  them  as  freely  as  I  could  have  done  had  they  been 
my  own.  In  fact,  I  unpacked  and  arranged  nearly  all  the  fos- 
sils which  came  to  the  Museum  while  I  was  rated  as  a  student. 
I  was  in  effect  curator  of  these  stores.  So,  too,  with  books, — we 
rummaged  them  freely,  and  thereby  got  the  habit  of  using 
them  as  helpers. 

In  our  evenings  it  was  a  habit  once  a  week  to  meet  there 
together,  to  take  up  some  book  outside  of  our  main  pursuit. 
One  would  read  and  two  take  notes;  at  the  next  meeting,  we 
drew  straws  to  determine  who  should  give  a  summary  of  the 
last  week's  reading.  If  in  the  opinion  of  the  majority  his  task 
was  not  well  done,  the  delinquent  was  subject  to  a  curious 
fine,  in  that  he  was  required  to  look  up  some  subject  in  the 
library  and  report  upon  it.  In  this  way,  we  read  in  the  course 
of  three  years  several  important  works.  Of  these  I  recall  J.  S. 
Mill's  "Logic,"  his  "Political  Economy,"  and  Lyell's  "Prin- 
ciples of  Geology."  Of  amusement  we  had  not  much,  save  the 
one  hour  of  frolic  before  bed  at  midnight.  Now  and  then  we 
went  to  hear  music.  When  I  came  to  Cambridge  I  had  a  passion 
for  the  theatre ;  my  father,  being  a  wise  man,  told  me  to  go  as 
often  as  I  desired  to,  with  the  result  that  I  went  about  every 
night  for  a  month,  and  afterward  rarely,  almost  never,  except 
to  see  one  of  four  actors, — Edwin  Booth,  E.  L.  Davenport,  Sal- 
vini,  and  Charlotte  Cushman.  Except  with  such  actors  on  the 
stage,  the  theatres  bored  me  insufferably  then  and  ever  since. 


THE  STUDENTS'  AMUSEMENTS  183 

A  few  years  ago  I  was  taken  by  a  friend  to  a  rather  famous  play, 
but  had  to  leave  in  the  middle  of  the  performance  and  wait  in 
the  railway  station  for  an  hour  for  the  going  of  my  train.  To 
operas  I  went  for  the  music,  generally  choosing  a  place  where 
I  could  comfortably  avoid  seeing  the  actors. 

It  was  our  custom  in  going  to  the  theatre  or  opera  to  make 
up  a  gang  of  a  dozen  or  more,  march  to  the  Boston  Theatre, 
and  go  to  the  uppermost  part  of  the  gallery,  which  was  then 
called  in  students'  phrase  "Olympus."  Sometimes  we  had 
trouble  with  its  denizens,  for  the  ancient  hatred  between  town 
and  gown  had  not  been  forgotten.  Once  or  twice  there  was 
fighting,  but  several  of  our  side  were  good  at  it,  so  we  were 
never  driven  out.  After  the  performance,  which  on  theatre 
nights  cost  twenty-five  cents,  and  on  those  of  opera  fifty,  we 
had  a  bit  of  supper  at  Brigham's  oyster-shop,  and  then  tramped 
home  singing.  Only  once  do  I  recall  any  trouble  with  the  police, 
and  that  was  not  provoked  by  us.  A  silly  "peeler"  ordered  us 
to  stop  singing  and  made  a  vain  effort  to  enforce  his  order,  a 
performance  which  led  to  his  considerable  discomfort. 

Once  or  twice  a  year  our  gang  used  to  go  fishing.  A  schooner 
was  chartered,  and  we  sailed  to  some  ground  outside  the  Har- 
bor, caught  what  fish  happened  on  our  hooks,  and  had  them 
cooked  on  the  shore,  sometimes  at  some  inn  and  sometimes  in 
a  rough  way  by  ourselves.  I  distinctly  recall  only  the  last  of 
these  rather  tedious  outings,  in  the  spring  of  1861,  and  that 
because  of  a  fatiguing  incident.  Our  party  was  large,  some 
fifty  or  more.  When  we  rendezvoused  at  the  wharf  where  the 
schooner  lay,  the  tide  was  low  and  the  craft  aground  with  two 
hours  to  wait  for  it  to  float.  As  it  was  about  two  o'clock  in  the 
night  and  very  chill,  it  was  proposed  that  we  march  through 
the  streets  to  keep  warm,  and  for  the  fun  of  it  we  agreed  to 
answer  no  questions  the  police  would  put  to  us,  but  to  keep 
perfectly  mum,  even  if  we  had  to  tussle  with  them  to  do  it  with- 
out a  word.  Setting  out,  we  marched  in  good  order;  we  had 
been  in  a  drill  club  for  two  years  or  so,  so  we  marched  well. 


184     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

Presently  we  were  accosted,  but  without  seeming  to  hear  the 
question.  Soon  there  were  a  dozen  of  the  guardians  marching 
beside  us  full  of  wonder  and  of  doubt  what  to  do.  We  were  in 
no  wise  disturbing  the  peace;  their  only  evident  part,  therefore, 
was  to  join  the  procession.  At  the  end  of  the  five-mile  tramp 
we  came  back  to  the  ship  to  find  it  afloat.  Our  spokesman  then 
thanked  the  officers  for  their  services  as  escort,  and  hoped  they 
felt  better  for  the  much-needed  exercise  we  had  afforded  them. 

There  was  very  little  "larking"  among  our  lot;  practical 
jokes  were  voted  stupid,  and  only  one  such  stays  by  me.  There 
was  a  half-crazy  impostor  who  used  to  bother  us  with  his 
speeches  and  his  solicitations  to  buy  a  copy  of  his  poem  on 
Bunker  Hill.  You  had  to  buy  the  poem,  for  the  alternative  was 
to  kill  him  and  leave  town.  Threats,  duckings,  moderate  drub- 
bings had  no  effect  whatever.  Finally,  we  had  our  revenge  by 
persuading  the  fellow  that  there  was  to  be  a  great  meeting  after 
midnight  in  front  of  the  old  State  House  in  Boston  to  hear  him 
speak.  A  small,  silent  audience  was  provided,  and  also  a  ladder; 
he  was  taken  to  the  place  in  a  carriage  and  swiftly  urged  up  the 
ladder  and  placed  in  the  balcony  about  twenty  feet  from  the 
ground.  The  multitude  then  departed,  taking  the  ladder  with 
them.  It  was  so  quickly  done  that  there  were  no  police  to  inter- 
fere. Their  wonder  was  great  when  they  found  the  wight  in  his 
rostrum  bawling  to  an  imaginary  throng.  Save  in  one  instance, 
among  the  students  with  whom  I  had  any  intimate  association 
in  that  day  there  was  no  vice.  There  were  several  of  whom  I 
became  by  one  chance  and  another  caretaker  who  were  rake- 
hells,  but  so  far  as  I  recall,  they  were  all  College  or  Law  School 
men.  Our  general  decency  was,  I  think,  due  in  large  measure 
to  the  fact  that  we  worked  hard  and  that  the  fellows  who  did 
not  do  so  were  quickly  elided.  Something  may  be  attributed 
to  the  fact  that  we  were  not  watched  by  proctors  or  forced  to 
do  anything.  We  thus  came  to  rule  ourselves  and  to  look  after 
one  another ;  it  was  a  little  brotherhood  well  knit  together. 

I  had  much  diversion  from  a  small  collection  of  living  animals 


A  COLLECTION  OF  LIVE  ANIMALS  185 

which  I  gathered  in  a  fenced  area  of  about  half  an  acre  behind 
our  club-house :  a  hedgehog,  a  porcupine,  a  weasel,  turtles,  and, 
above  all,  serpents,  —  all  the  local  species,  including  rattle- 
snakes from  Mount  Tom,  and  a  few  foreign  forms.  One  notable 
accession  was  a  boa-constrictor  of  small  size,  about  ten  feet  long. 
This  collection  gave  me  great  pleasure,  but  some  care  and  ex- 
pense. It  was  much  resorted  to  by  visitors,  being  unhappily 
the  only  open-air  free  show  of  animals  ever  existing  about  Bos- 
ton. On  Sunday  afternoons  there  would  be  a  throng  of  inter- 
ested people  to  see  the  little  exhibition.  It  found  an  odd  finish 
through  the  horror  inspired  by  the  serpents.  A  rumor  got  out 
that  a  python  thirty  feet  in  length  had  escaped  from  the  col- 
lection and  was  winding  up  and  down  of  nights,  seeking  whom 
it  should  devour.  Fancy  located  it  for  a  time  under  a  cellar- 
less  schoolhouse  in  Somerville,  a  neighboring  town.  I  was  ad- 
vised by  the  chief  of  police  that  I  had  better  allay  the  excite- 
ment by  making  an  end  of  my  amusement.  So  the  harmless 
creatures  went  into  safe-keeping  in  alcohol. 

That  there  was  no  danger  from  the  escape  of  the  captives  is 
shown  by  the  fact  that  but  one  of  them  got  out  of  bounds  in  the 
two  years  they  were  kept.  One  night  when  I  made  the  round 
of  the  cages,  a  hedgehog  was  missing.  There  was  a  tracking 
snow  on  the  ground ;  so  a  dozen  of  us  started  with  lanterns  to 
run  it  down,  and  at  the  end  of  our  run  we  recaptured  it.  Years 
afterward,  my  colleague  the  venerated  Professor  Henry  W. 
Torrey  used  often  to  tell  me  of  his  sore  experience  with  a  gang 
of  ruffians  who  at  midnight  came  over  his  back  fence  and  with 
torches  searched  his  premises  through  and  went  on.  It  was 
evidently  a  painful  episode  in  his  quiet  academic  life,  one  that 
showed  the  latent  iniquity  of  human  society;  the  memory  of  it 
stayed  by  him  until  his  death  some  thirty  years  later.  The  profit 
I  have  had  from  my  little  experiments  with  captive  animals, 
and  a  lifelong  close  connection  with  our  barnyard  creatures, 
has  shown  me  that  one  cannot  be  a  real  biologist  without  such 
opportunities.  It  is  possible  for  a  student  to  gain  a  vast  amount 


186     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

of  detailed  knowledge  of  forms  by  closet  methods,  but  this 
learning  may  and  generally  does  leave  out  the  essence  of  the 
creatures  it  relates  to,  which  is  the  soul  that  has  shaped  and 
been  shaped  by  their  structure.  The  naturalist  needs  both  of 
these  modes  of  contact  with  his  data,  but  if  it  be  but  one  it  had 
best  be  that  which  does  not  relate  to  anatomical  features  alone. 
Thus  in  the  case  of  Alfred  Russel  Wallace,  who  seems  never 
to  have  dissected  anything,  to  have  indeed  a  horror  of  such 
work,  he  made  himself  a  naturalist  of  most  excellent  quality, 
indeed  of  rare  discernment,  by  attending  solely  to  the  external 
shapes  and  habits  of  living  things. 

It  may  interest  some  of  my  readers  to  know  something  of  my 
expenditures  during  my  undergraduate  days;  this  story  may 
be  shortly  told.  When  I  came  to  Cambridge  I  was  allowed  from 
my  family  out  of  money  coming  from  my  grandfather,  Richard 
Southgate,  the  excessively  large  sum  of  fifteen  hundred  dollars  a 
year;  equivalent  on  the  basis  of  the  existing  college  ideals  to 
about  five  thousand  dollars.  I  managed  to  get  rid  of  this  money 
each  year  without  what  would  be  called  extravagance,  yet 
with  no  fit  care  to  the  budget.  Some  of  it  went  for  books,  much 
for  subscriptions  for  various,  not  unreasonable  but  unnecessary, 
associated  purposes  of  my  mates.  Some  of  it  in  loans  to  my 
mates  which  were  never  repaid,  mainly  because  the  coming  on 
of  the  war  broke  up  their  plans.  I  don't  recall  having  wasted 
any  part  of  my  substance,  but  I  had  the  notion  that  it  did  not 
befit  a  gentleman  to  be  very  careful  of  his  pocket.  When  the 
war  came  on  I  had  to  take  in  sail,  for  the  sources  of  means  of  my 
family  were  reduced  and  in  danger  of  being  cut  off  altogether. 
Though  I  had  a  few  thousand  dollars  in  banks  in  Boston  and 
Cambridge,  it  seemed  fit  to  keep  this  fund  as  a  protection  for 
those  who  would  be  helpless  in 'case  Kentucky  should  be  swept 
into  the  ruin  the  South  in  my  opinion  had  to  face.  In  the  last 
year  of  my  residence  I  spent  less  than  one  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars,  earned  my  room-rent  and  tuition  by  work  in  the  Mu- 
seum, and  wore  my  old  clothes.  The  club  table  in  Zoological 


THE  YOUNG  JOHN  FISEE  187 

Hall  was  abandoned;  there  were  too  few  left  to  keep  it  up. 
For  a  while  we  followed  the  plan  of  getting  a  dinner  at  a  board- 
ing-house kept  by  a  motherly  old  woman,  a  Miss  McGee.  It 
stood  on  the  site  now  occupied  by  St.  John's  Chapel  on  Brattle 
Street.  To  it  most  of  Agassiz's  pupils  resorted,  as  did  some  of 
his  assistants. 

I  think  it  was  at  this  time,  in  the  autumn  of  1861,  that  for  a 
while  I  took  my  dinner  at  the  Brattle  House,  then  a  forlorn 
kind  of  hotel  where  a  few  students  went;  afterward  it  was  the 
University  Press ;  like  many  another  edifice  of  that  time,  it  has 
vanished.  At  my  table  there  was  only  one  other  person,  a  shy 
fellow  of  about  my  age  with  whom  I  tried  in  vain  to  make 
effective  acquaintance.  I  took  a  fancy  to  him  as  I  thought  he 
did  to  me,  but  his  diffidence  was  a  bar.  I  learned  that  his  name 
was  Green,  and  that  he  came  from  New  York  way.  I  was  piqued 
by  my  unaccustomed  failure  to  get  on  with  a  chap  I  fancied, 
but  I  soon  forgot  all  about  him.  Twenty  years  after  when  at 
a  club  dinner  I  was  holding  forth  on  the  evils  of  self -conscious- 
ness, I  described  my  experience  with  Green,  presenting  him 
as  a  gangling,  red-headed,  freckle-faced,  goggle-eyed  chap,  who 
blushed  whenever  he  was  spoken  to,  who  had  probably  been 
shamed  out  of  activities  through  his  preposterous  sense  of  him- 
self. Then  John  Fiske,  who  had  been  leaning  across  the  table 
evidently  admiring  the  droll  picture  of  the  vaunted  Green,  said, 
"  Why,  that  was  me ! "  Then  it  came  out,  what  I  had  not  before 
known,  that  for  family  reasons  he  had  changed  his  name,  and 
with  it,  it  seemed,  his  very  nature;  for  I  could  not  find  save  in 
his  intelligence  a  trace  of  Green  in  Fiske.  I  saw  many  wonderful 
changes  in  my  friends  who  went  into  the  Civil  War,  swiftly 
evolved  in  the  intense  environment  to  which  they  were  sub- 
jected, but  none  equal  to  that  which  had  transmuted  the  soft  and 
callow  youth  to  my  solid  and  permanently  substantial  friend. 

After  a  time,  we  Southerners,  half  a  dozen  in  number,  found 
that  we  could  save  still  further  by  cooking  all  our  meals  in  our 
rooms,  and  for  some  months  we  followed  this  plan.  The  result 


188     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

was  that  we  were  underfed,  and  suffered  from  it;  as  is  shown 
by  the  fact  that  we  got  into  the  habit  of  taking  a  whiskey  toddy 
before  going  to  bed.  It  was,  indeed,  the  only  time  in  my  life 
that  I  have  felt  the  need  of  that  whip.  The  hardest  kind  of  work 
in  the  open  air,  when  bacon  and  beans  and  the  like  were  at  hand, 
has  never  led  me  to  feel  the  need  of  alcohol.  This  period  of  im- 
perfect nutrition,  combined  with  arduous  study  and  with  the 
exhaustion  due  to  the  Anticosti  expedition,  which  came  just 
before  it,  brought  me  lower  in  health  than  I  had  been  since  my 
childhood.  I  suffered  very  severely  from  indigestion,  especially 
from  the  effect  of  the  malady  on  the  heart,  in  the  shape  of  inter- 
missions and  irregularities,  which  often  made  it  necessary  for 
me  to  sit  the  night  out  in  a  chair;  all  this  coming  at  a  time  of 
much  worry  on  account  of  the  war  and  because  of  my  prepara- 
tion for  the  examination  for  my  degree.  Except  for  an  essen- 
tial toughness  which  has  stood  me  in  good  stead,  I  should 
certainly  have  broken  my  health  in  a  permanent  way  by  this 
combination  of  scanty  diet  and  hard  labor. 

I  had  not  much  help  from  Agassiz  in  these  last  months  of  my 
preparation.  He  had  admitted  me  to  candidacy  after  going 
over  with  me  what  I  had  done,  and  he  stated  that  he  expected 
me  to  pass  a  good  examination.  He  gave  me  an  odd  bit  of 
warning,  which  was  that  Benjamin  Peirce  would  probably 
subject  me  to  a  searching  test,  for  the  reason  that  they  had 
recently  once  again  quarrelled,  Peirce  questioning  the  character 
of  the  instruction  which  Agassiz  gave  his  students  as  lacking 
in  thoroughness;  the  truth  being  that  Agassiz  was  the  worst 
instructor  I  have  ever  known,  but  in  diverse  ways  the  greatest 
educator.  These  two  able  men  were  off  and  on  the  nearest  of 
friends  and  the  bitterest  of  foes;  just  then  they  were  at  enmity; 
so  I  had  to  look  out  for  myself,  for  I  was  likely  to  be  seized  on 
as  a  horrid  example  of  Agassiz's  looseness  of  method  of  teach- 
ing. All  I  did  to  prepare  for  defence  was  to  look  up  with  care 
the  little  of  geology  which  had  at  that  time  been  subjected  to 
mathematical  treatment.  I  reckoned  that  the  burthen  of  the 


AGASSIZ'S  METHOD  OF  TEACHING  189 

trial,  if  it  came,  would  have  to  be  on  Elie  de  Beaumont's  "  Sys- 
teme  des  Montagnes,"  a  work  I  had  already  read  attentively 
and  abstracted,  so  that  I  knew  it  fairly  well ;  but  I  went  over  it 
again  and  therefore  I  knew  it  in  a  way  that  would  have  made  it 
possible  to  reproduce  it  almost  verbatim;  given  to  much  train- 
ing in  committing  to  memory  I  could  do  a  work  of  that  kind 
passing  well. 

It  is  to  be  noted  that  in  the  four  years  I  was  with  Agassiz,  I 
had  no  kind  of  examination,  save  what  he  gave  when  he  ques- 
tioned and  in  some  measure  tested  my  training.  For  the  rest 
there  was  nothing  but  criticisms  of  my  work  and  discussions, 
endless  discussions.  These  gave  him  all  he  cared  to  have  as  to 
the  progress  I  had  made.  Now  and  then  he  questioned  me  hard. 
I  recall  by  chance  how  he  tested  my  knowledge  of  a  book  which 
I  had  been  using  in  the  identification  of  some  mollusca;  he 
sought  to  find  how  far  I  had  compassed  the  work  or  had  merely 
used  it  in  a  perfunctory  way.  He  had  helped  me  to  know  the 
difference  between  knowledge  and  ignorance  and  to  measure 
my  accomplishments  as  I  went  along  without  any  kind  of 
routine  tests. 

Because  I  needed  to  be  away  to  my  own  parts  of  the  country, 
the  examinations  were  given  me  at  an  earlier  date  than  was 
then  the  custom,  I  believe  in  May.  My  thesis  was  delivered 
a  month  earlier  and  approved  by  Jeffries  Wyman  as  sufficient. 
This  was  told  me  before  the  time  of  the  formal  examination. 
Since  this  inquiry  was  interesting,  as  a  type  of  the  method 
used  at  that  time  in  testing  candidates,  I  will  give  an  account 
of  it.  I  had  made  no  formal  preparation  for  the  questioning 
I  was  to  meet,  except  to  go  to  the  shore  and  live  out  of  doors 
for  some  days,  putting  the  whole  matter  out  of  my  mind,  en- 
deavoring to  get  into  the  admirable  state  of  the  little  darkey 
who,  when  reproved  for  not  caring,  answered,  "  I  doan  keer,  an' 
I  doan  keer  if  I  doan  keer";  with  the  result  that  when  I  faced 
my  judges,  it  was  with  a  sense  of  rather  amused  indifference, 
which  I  have  experienced  in  the  presence  of  other  forms  of 


190  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

danger.  It  was  indeed  an  august  bench,  for  besides  Agassiz 
there  were  Wyman,  Asa  Gray,  Peirce,  Cooke,  Levering,  and 
Horsford,  as  well  as  the  then  President  of  the  University,  Fel- 
ton.  I  was  placed  in  a  seat  upon  the  platform,  which  I  had  to 
occupy,  when  not  at  the  blackboard,  for  nearly  five  hours  with 
an  intermission  for  refreshments.  The  performance  was  begun 
by  my  master,  —  who  seemed  more  deeply  interested  in  it  than 
I  felt  myself  to  be,  —  with  questions  as  to  my  studies.  He  very 
dexterously  drew  out  samples  of  my  little  learning,  and  engaged 
me  in  disputations  which  would  be  likely  to  make  a  good  im- 
pression. The  dexterity  of  this  performance  took  away  any 
trace  of  embarrassment  which  the  situation  enforced  on  me. 
Then  he  made  me  defend  my  thesis  with  a  pretty  severe  ques- 
tioning, which,  as  I  was  now  wound  up,  I  did  in  good  fashion. 
He  pressed  me  hard  on  some  rather  recondite  matters,  as,  for 
instance,  in  the  work  of  Karl  Ernst  von  Baer,  Oken,  etc.,  but 
he  probably  knew  that  my  reading  made  it  pretty  safe  to  do  so. 
I  have  never  ceased  to  admire  the  way  in  which,  while  seeming 
to  put  me  under  the  harrow,  he  was  really  exhibiting  my  paces. 
This  part  of  ,the  business  kept  me  active  for  more  than  two 
hours,  for  the  questions  came  swiftly. 

After  Agassiz  handed  me  over  to  the  others,  there  was  ques- 
tioning by  Wyman,  also  most  kindly  but  rather  more  searching. 
Gray  too  was  most  fair.  Lovering's  questions  were  evidently 
intended  to  find  whether  I  knew  something  in  mere  outline  of 
other  subjects  than  biology.  Cooke  took  me  on  a  hard  road  in 
mineralogy,  made  the  easier  by  my  prompt  "don't  know," 
when  I  was  not  clear  in  my  mind  about  the  answer.  In  fact, 
up  to  the  point  I  had  scored  in  the  game,  because  I  never  hesi- 
tated to  confess  the  full  measure  of  my  ignorance.  I  took  pains 
to  have  no  penumbra  between  my  light  and  my  darkness.  At 
the  end  of  the  second  sitting  came  my  turn  with  Benjamin 
Peirce.  To  my  satisfaction,  he  shortly  turned  his  questioning 
to  the  process  of  mountain-building.  He  produced  from  his 
pockets  the  three  volumes  of  De  Beaumont's  "Systeme  des 


EXAMINATION  ON  THE  THESIS  191 

Montagnes"  and  asked  me  to  put  the  thirty  or  so  questions  on 
the  board  and  from  them  to  construct  the  "Resume"  Penta- 
gonal." The  task  took  considerable  time,  but  I  had  visualized 
it  well,  and  set  down  the  matter  accurately.  Then,  still  following 
the  book,  he  asked  me  to  criticise  the  work  as  a  whole.  Fortu- 
nately I  had  recently  studied  the  essays  of  William  Hopkins 
of  Cambridge  University,  in  which  there  is  an  effectively  dis- 
tinctive study  of  the  mean,  showing  that,  taking  account  of  the 
departures  of  the  general  mountain  axis  from  the  lines  described 
by  the  several  great  centres  of  comparison  set  up  by  De  Beau- 
mont, the  correspondences  of  the  position  of  these  axes  with 
these  circles  was  no  nearer  than  chance  would  bring  about;  in 
a  word,  that  there  was  really  no  more  mathematical  order  in 
the  alignment  of  these  features  than  would  be  found  in  straws 
thrown  haphazard  on  a  table.  It  happened  that  Peirce  did  not 
know  of  Hopkins's  work  on  this  subject,  and  though  I  gave 
the  author  full  credit  for  the  criticism,  the  sufficiency  of  it  was 
impressive,  and  finished  my  examination,  —  save  that  at  the 
end  he  asked  me  a  question.  I  have  forgotten  what  it  was,  but 
it  appeared  to  me  unfair.  I  said  that  I  could  give  no  answer, 
and  asked  him  what  the  answer  should  be.  We  had  a  sharp 
colloquy,  which  ended  in  his  good-natured  acknowledgment 
that  he  had  put  the  question  to  see  what  I  would  do  with  it. 

I  never  shall  forget  the  look  of  pleasure  on  my  master's 
expressive  face  as  he  watched  the  progress  of  this  part  of  my 
examination,  which  I  knew  was  well  done,  for  I  was  in  an  excel- 
lent state  of  tension  for  the  work  and  felt  myself  in  perfect  com- 
mand of  it.  He  had  evidently  been  in  some  anxiety  as  to  my 
ability  to  face  the  questioning  I  should  be  subjected  to  by  his 
colleague.  I  had  myself  no  serious  doubts  as  to  my  ability  to 
meet  the  trial,  though  the  purely  nervous  anxiety  before  it  began 
was  a  sore  infliction.  I  won  my  degree  summa  cum  laude  by  the 
unanimous  vote  of  my  judges  and  that  without  much  debate,  as 
I  was  told.  I  was  asked  to  wait  a  moment  and  in  a  minute  or 
two  the  good  news  came  to  me,  Benjamin  Peirce  being  the  first 


192     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

to  congratulate  me.  My  wrestle  with  the  De  Beaumont  hypo- 
thesis evidently  made  an  impression  on  him,  in  one  way  for  me 
unhappy,  for  it  gave  him  the  erroneous  notion  that  I  was  com- 
petent in  mathematics,  and  led  him,  when  we  became  colleagues, 
to  submit  many  a  problem  to  me  which  I  could  not  understand 
for  lack  of  adequate  training,  and  to  regard  my  plea  of  ignorance 
on  such  matters  as  mere  make-believe. 

Although  I  had  a  sense  of  ease  in  the  six  or  seven  hours  of 
trial  before  my  judges,  it  evidently  was  a  severe  ordeal.  As  in 
other  instances  when  I  have  been  put  to  proof,  there  came  a 
reaction  with  great  depression  so  that  I  could  not  sleep.  Almost 
extravagantly  self-possessed  while  under  the  excitement,  I 
remember  sitting  in  my  room  and  shaking  for  an  hour  after- 
wards and  winding  up  with  a  brisk  fever.  Rather  than  go  to 
Kentucky  to  seek  service  in  that  condition,  I  took  a  train, 
alone,  for  the  White  Mountains,  stayed  a  day  or  two  at  a  curious 
hostel  known  as  "Dolly  Copp's"  near  the  Glen  House,  and  then 
walked  over  Mount  Washington  to  the  Crawford  House.  Three 
days  having  given  me  my  breath  and  sense  of  balance  I  returned 
to  Cambridge,  to  pack  my  effects  and  prepare  for  the  next  chap- 
ter of  experiences.  The  delight  I  had  in  the  solitude  was  the 
keener  for  the  reason  that  I  knew  that  what  was  to  come  would 
be  quite  other  than  this  peace  of  the  great  hills. 

When  I  arrived  in  Cambridge  the  news  from  my  people  was 
such  as  to  make  it  plain  not  only  that  the  neutrality  of  my 
commonwealth  was  broken,  —  that  had  been  decided  some  time 
before,  —  but  that  the  chance  was  that  the  fighting  line  would 
soon  swing  up  to  the  Ohio.  I  therefore  made  haste  with  my 
preparations,  packing  my  satchel  and  turning  the  key  in  my 
door  with  all  my  effects  within.  I  was  promised  that  I  should 
hold  my  quarters  if  I  lived,  until  I  could  return  to  care  for  my 
property.  But  in  a  few  months  there  came  a  rumor  that  I  was 
dead,  and  when  I  did  return  I  found  that  my  affairs  had  been 
summarily  dealt  with,  so  that  little  remained  to  me  of  my  goods 
and  chattels  save  a  bath-tub  and  the  frame  of  a  bed. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

CAMBRIDGE    AND    BOSTON    CELEBRITIES 

As  in  this  record  I  now  end  with  my  life  as  a  bachelor  student 
in  Cambridge,  it  is  fit  to  finish  the  story  of  that  period  with 
some  account  of  the  people  other  than  fellow  students  or  teach- 
ers with  whom  I  had  been  in  contact  during  the  years  I  had 
spent  there.  Not  many  houses  were  open  to  me  in  Cambridge 
or  Boston,  for  I  had  little  time  and  not  much  inclination  for 
society,  yet  these  few  houses  were  much  to  me  and  the  memories 
of  them  are  dear.  First  to  be  named  of  them  was  that  of  Mr. 
George  Ticknor.  As  soon  as  the  lists  of  students  were  presented 
which  bore  my  name,  I  had  a  message  from  him  through  my 
master,  saying  that  if  I  were  a  kinsman  of  Mr.  William  Shaler, 
sometime  consul  at  Algiers,  he  would  be  glad  to  see  me.  I  made 
haste  to  do  his  bidding,  and  found  my  way  to  what  was  in  its 
time  perhaps  the  stateliest  mansion  in  Boston,  at  the  corner 
of  Park  and  Beacon  streets,  where  its  windows  looked  down 
the  mall  which  leads  to  the  foot  of  Beacon  Hill.  Mr.  Ticknor 
received  me  in  a  way  that  made  me  feel  that  I  had  known  him 
all  my  life.  This  impression  was  probably  due  to  certain  like- 
ness in  his  manner  to  my  grandfather,  Richard  Southgate.  He 
sought  to  find  in  my  appearance  traits  which  recalled  my 
father's  uncle.  On  my  first  visit,  which  stays  very  clearly  in 
mind,  I  met  his  wife,  who  made  an  immense  impression  on  me; 
for  splendor  of  carriage  and  dignity  of  manner,  she  was  to  be 
compared  with  my  great-aunt,  Abigail  Stilwell.  They  were  both 
dames  of  a  vanished  age.  That  this  was  no  mere  boy's  impres- 
sion, but  well  judged,  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  years  afterward 
I  went  to  the  house  with  Professor  Bonamy  Price  of  Oxford, 
who  was  accustomed  to  august  personages;  as  we  came  away, 


194     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

he  said  that  he  was  convinced  that  there  was  no  such  stateliness 
in  his  country. 

I  was  at  once  made  so  far  welcome  in  Mr.  Ticknor's  house  that 
it  required  restraint  not  to  haunt  it.  I  never  went  through  its 
door,  taking  the  welcome  look  of  the  admirable  English  servant 
who  attended  it,  without  feeling  strangely  at  home.  It  was  my 
good  fortune  to  be  bidden  there  to  dinner  often  when  I  was  the 
only  one  from  without  the  household,  and  afterward  to  have  a 
talk  with  Mr.  Ticknor.  He  was  the  most  charming  combination 
of  learning,  shrewdness,  and  simplicity  I  have  ever  known.  In 
certain  ways  his  thought  ranged  far.  He  had,  for  instance,  a 
very  deep  insight  into  the  fit  conditions  of  a  university,  and 
from  his  criticisms  of  the  conditions  at  Harvard,  and  his  sug- 
gestions of  betterment,  my  attention  was  drawn  to  academic 
matters.  He  had  studied  the  system  of  the  University  of  Vir- 
ginia, had  seen  it  under  the  guidance  of  its  founder  Jefferson, 
whom  he  had  known.  He  was  the  first  to  give  me  an  idea  of 
what  academic  freedom  meant.  In  his  advocacy  of  the  elective 
system, — in  the  better  sense  of  that  term,  —  his  belief  in  the 
fitness  of  allowing  a  youth  to  choose  his  purpose,  he  was  the 
pioneer  in  New  England.  All  of  us  who  have  furthered  that 
purpose  have  been  his  followers. 

My  enthusiastic  admiration  for  my  master  Agassiz,  as  well 
as  my  criticisms  of  him,  which  he  very  cleverly  and  to  my 
shame  brought  out,  was  one  of  the  bonds  of  this  singular  friend- 
ship between  a  man  already  old  (he  must  have  been  sixty-five,1 
when  I  first  met  him)  and  a  young  student.  It  was  partly 
based  on  this  good  common  ground  of  interest  in  a  greatness 
which  appealed  to  both  of  us.  He  saw  in  Agassiz  the  majesty 
of  his  personality  and  was  great  enough  to  appreciate  it  as  no 
common  mind  could.  He  would  often  say  that  he  did  not  have 
the  least  idea  what  the  master  was  about,  but  that  he  was 
great  —  and  that  was  enough. 

Another  bond  that  drew  and  held  me  to  Mr.  Ticknor  was  his 

i  Ticknor  was  born  in  1791.  —  Er>. 


BOSTON  AND  THE  SOUTH  195 

sympathetic  understanding  of  the  Southern  people.  At  that 
time,  to  most  of  the  folk  of  culture  about  Boston,  the  name  of 
Southerner  was  anathema.  This  was  in  a  way  natural.  The 
dastardly  assault  on  Sumner,  which  was  as  much  execrated  in 
Kentucky  as  in  Massachusetts,  was  taken  to  be  a  typical  sample 
of  the  slaveholders'  manners.  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  was  still 
making  an  atmosphere  of  hatred ;  Lowell  and  Whittier  were  also 
contributing  to  it.  I  was  accustomed  to  hear  hard  things  of  my 
people,  or  to  have  them  stopped  in  mid-saying  because  they 
caught  my  ear.  There  was  ever  the  sense  that  I  was  in  a  hostile 
country,  where  toleration  was  a  matter  of  courtesy  and  not  of 
right.  It  must  be  said  that  the  manners  of  the  Southern  stu- 
dents were  sometimes  of  a  nature  to  be  exasperating  to  those 
from  the  North.  I  myself  shared  the  motives  of  both  sections, 
but  so  much  of  me  as  was  Southern  evidently  grated  on  the 
feelings  of  associates  whom  I  liked  and  respected.  Thus,  shortly 
after  I  came  to  be  with  Agassiz,  a  fellow  student  from  Salem, 
a  good  fellow  from  the  middle-class  folk,  stopped  me  on  the 
street  when  I  was  carrying  a  large  bundle  and  asked  me  a 
question  as  to  something  I  had  done  or  left  undone,  and  when 
I  made  my  answer,  said,  "You  are  a  liar";  whereupon  I  put 
aside  my  load  and  knocked  him  down.  As  he  got  up,  apparently 
unruffled,  he  remarked,  "What  did  you  do  that  for?"  It  puz- 
zled me  much  to  find  that  my  conduct  was  generally  reprobated. 
The  division  between  the  students  from  the  South  and  those 
from  the  North  had  been  made  the  more  evident  by  the  John 
Brown  raid,  which  greatly  moved  the  Boston  community.  At 
the  moment  it  seemed  likely  that  it  would  lead  to  a  servile  war 
in  Virginia,  which  would  spread  to  other  parts  of  the  slave- 
holding  section.  It  was  the  natural  conclusion  that  this  was  a 
part  of  an  extended  conspiracy  for  raising  the  negroes  in  arms. 
I  have  forgotten  the  details  of  the  business,  but  there  was  an 
agreement  among  the  Southern  students  to  offer  our  services 
to  our  several  states  in  case  there  was  need  of  help.  It  is  in  my 
memory  that  a  list  of  names  was  prepared  and  the  offer  of  this 


196     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

help  sent  to  the  executives  of  our  commonwealths.  As  I  was 
not  in  control  of  the  movement  I  cannot  be  sure  that  the  offer 
was  formally  made,  but  I  believe  that  it  was  so  made.  The 
rumor  of  it  made  a  certain  sensation  at  the  time,  and  seemed 
to  add  to  the  sense  of  the  iniquity  of  the  group  to  which  I  be- 
longed. My  position  in  respect  to  slaveholding  was  not  regarded 
as  reasonable  by  my  Northern  schoolmates,  except  by  Emerson. 
I  was  opposed  to  —  I  may  say  that  I  exceedingly  disliked  —  the 
system ;  but  I  did  not  deem  it  iniquitous,  but  mainly  an  ancient 
unhappiness,  which  had  been  imposed  upon  my  people,  and 
that,  so  far  as  ancestors  could  be  held  responsible,  the  Northern 
folk  were  as  much  to  blame  for  it  as  the  Southern.  I  was  ready 
to  consider  any  natural  project  that  could  be  contrived  for  get- 
ting rid  of  it.  I  spent  a  good  deal  of  debating  time  in  figuring 
that  the  Liberian  or  other  colonization  scheme  might  bring  a 
solution ;  but  when  there  was  any  talk  of  servile  war  as  a  remedy, 
I  was  ready  for  battle. 

In  my  perplexities,  I  talked  much  with  Mr.  Ticknor.  Though 
by  nature  guarded  in  his  speech,  I  found  that  he  was  rather 
more  of  a  Southern  sympathizer  than  I  was  myself.  He  was 
not  in  favor  of  slavery  as  an  institution,  but  accepted  it  as  an 
existing  and  inevitable  fact,  with  the  belief  that  any  project 
for  getting  rid  of  it  was  impracticable  and  certain  to  bring  even 
worse  than  its  presence  on  the  country.  He  put  aside  all  colo- 
nization schemes  as  impracticable,  for  the  reason  that  they 
would  leave  the  South  without  a  laboring  class;  and  that  fur- 
ther we  had  no  right  to  drive  the  negroes  back  to  Africa,  any 
more  than  they  would,  if  in  the  ascendant,  have  a  right  to  expel 
us  to  Europe.  Moreover,  he  liked,  as  I  did  not  altogether,  the 
tone  of  the  Southerners.  It  may  have  been  that  his  studies  of 
Spanish  history  and  literature  had  developed  in  him  a  fancy 
for  the  mediaeval  type  of  man  and  society:  he  himself  was 
clearly  of  that  fashion.  It  was  natural,  therefore,  that  I  went 
to  him  for  comfort,  when,  as  often  in  those  days,  I  sorely 
needed  it. 


GEORGE  TICKNOR  197 

At  the  outbreak  of  the  Civil  War,  Mr.  Ticknor  was  regarded 
as  a  Secessionist,  and  at  the  time  when  Seward  was  "ringing 
his  battle  bell,"  there  was  talk  of  imprisoning  him  in  Fort 
Warren,  where  a  number  of  men  of  distinction  from  the  South- 
ern states  had  been  confined.  When  the  sturdy  Governor  An- 
drew, the  truest  of  Union  men,  let  Seward  understand  that 
there  were  still  men  in  Massachusetts  and  that  his  emissaries 
would  in  case  of  need  find  why  they  were  not  wanted,  I,  with 
some  others,  supposed  that  he  referred  perhaps  t£  Ticknor  and 
a  small  group  who  were  known  to  sympathize  with  him,  includ- 
ing Mr.  George  S.  Hillard.  In  fact,  Mr.  Ticknor  was  not  a  Se- 
cessionist, nor  even  a  Confederate  sympathizer.  He  was,  indeed, 
a  Unionist,  but  he  did  not  believe  it  right  or  wise  to  seek  the 
welfare  of  the  Federal  land  at  the  cost  of  Civil  War.  This  state 
of  mind  was  a  judgment  with  no  trace  of  passion  in  it.  When 
he  learned  that  I  purposed  entering  the  Federal  army,  he  en- 
couraged me  to  do  so,  on  the  ground  that  a  man  ought  in  such 
trials  to  trust  to  himself. 

Although  I  had  known  many  Europeans  and  not  a  few  per-  \ 
sons  who  had  travelled  in  the  old  world,  Mr.  Ticknor  was  the 
first  American  who  had  effectively  appropriated  its  quality. 
Although  I  did  not  think  about  it  at  the  time,  I  believe  that  it 
was  the  feeling  that  he  was  one  of  my  own  stock  who  had  made 
other  lands  contribute  to  his  enlargement  that  most  attracted 
me.  I  delighted  to  hear  him  talk  of  the  able  men  he  had  known 
-  he  had  the  best  of  all  talents,  that  of  knowing  men.  He  had 
such  a  pleasure  in  this  knowledge  that  many  provincial  folk 
of  Boston  thought  him  a  worshipper  of  famous  people,  and  after 
the  fashion  of  the  cheaper  sort  they  called  him  a  snob.  In 
truth,  he  was  what  the  provincial  always  finds  it  difficult  to 
understand — a  man  who  was  a  real  discerner  of  man.  The  fact 
that  he  was  willing  to  give  much  time  to  a  rather  raw  lad, 
because  he  saw  that  the  lad  found  pleasure  and  profit  in  his 
conversation,  reveals  the  true-hearted  gentleman  he  was. 

Mr.  Ticknor  had  a  perfectly  natural  pleasure  in  his  wide 


198     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

range  of  friendships,  a  most  human  pleasure.  He  gave  me  the 
letters  of  a  number  of  his  European  correspondents  to  read. 
They  showed  by  their  tone  that  many  discerning  people  took 
him  at  the  large  value  which  I  from  the  first  assigned  to  him. 
I  most  distinctly  remember  the  letters  he  had  from  King  John 
of  Saxony,  a  cultivated  man,  and  a  very  interesting  correspond- 
ent. He  was  evidently  much  attracted  to  Mr.  Ticknor;  the 
relation  was  one  based  on  the  mutual  esteem  of  two  cultivated 
gentlemen.  As  I  recall  it,  they  were  equally  interested  in  Dante. 
In  this  connection,  here  is  a  bit  of  advice  Mr.  Ticknor  gave  me. 
It  was  that  if  I  should  become  a  correspondent  of  a  sovereign, 
I  must  take  care  not  to  answer  letters  at  once;  unless  they  con- 
tained some  specific  request,  it  was  well  to  wait  some  months 
before  writing  again,  for  a  man  of  such  station  could  not  by  the 
usages  that  controlled  him  leave  a  communication  unanswered. 
He  said  assuringly  that  promptitude  in  answering  letters  and  a 
memory  for  faces  were  the  virtues  of  a  king. 

Next  after  two  houses  of  my  earlier  life  in  Kentucky,  that  of 
the  Ticknors  gave  me  more  than  any  other  than  my  own. 
There  was.  a  beautiful  view  from  the  library  windows;  from 
them  you  looked  down  the  charming  Beacon  Street  mall  of  the 
Common.  But  from  them,  I  now  perceive,  I  gained  a  wider, 
nobler  look  on  life.  To  this  day,  though  that  mansion  has  fallen 
from  its  high  estate  and  is  a  place  of  offices,  it  remains  sacred. 
I  pass  it  often  and  in  many  moods,  but  never  without  reverence 
and  a  sense  of  gratitude  for  what  came  to  me  within  its  walls. 

One  day,  early  in  our  acquaintance,  —  I  may  indeed  call  it 
friendship,  —  Mr.  Ticknor  said  to  me  that  he  was  glad  to  have 
me  in  his  house,  but  that  I  ought  to  know  that  being  thus  an 
intimate  there  brought  certain  disabilities.  He  went  on  to  say 
that  my  frequent  presence  there  would  lead  to  my  being 
excluded  from  the  society  of  a  certain  group  of  people  whose 
acquaintance  would  probably  be  of  more  value  to  me  than  his 
own ;  that  I  should  find  my  way  to  the  homes  of  the  Lawrences, 
to  those  of  Mr.  George  Hillard  and  Judge  Parker  and  Professor 


LONGFELLOW  AND  LOWELL  199 

Parsons  of  Cambridge,  but  that  I  should  not  enter  those  of  the 
Lowells  or  the  Quincys  or  that  of  Mr.  Longfellow.  At  the  time, 
this  seemed  to  me  the  whimsy  of  the  dear  man's  overmuch  con- 
sideration of  me,  and  a  perhaps  excessive  valuation  of  social 
relations.  But  time  proved  that  his  reckoning  was  singularly 
correct.  I  quickly  took  my  way  to  the  houses  where  he  said  I 
should  be  welcomed,  and  there  made  valued  friends,  but  I 
never  was  invited  to  any  of  the  other  houses  where  he  told  me 
I  would  find  myself  tabooed. 

I  came  to  know  Longfellow  on  the  street,  and  had  many 
pleasant  exchanges  with  him  in  our  meetings;  he  would  some- 
times turn  and  walk  with  me,  or  bid  me  to  go  with  him.  We 
often  met  in  the  houses  of  mutual  friends,  but  he  never  bade 
me  to  his  own.  In  the  same  way  I  met  Lowell,  even  more  in- 
teresting. He  seemed  to  fancy  talking  with  me  in  a  fine  swap- 
ping of  yarns  and  exchanging  of  judgments,  and  I  always  found 
myself  at  my  best  with  him.  Several  times  he  told  me  that  we 
were  distantly  kinsmen,  as  I  remember  it,  through  the  marriage 
of  an  Elizabeth  Shaler  of  Connecticut  with  an  ancestor  of  his, 
Thomas  Russell,  of  Charlestown.  He  said  that  this  accounted  for 
the  fact  that  his  own  father  and  William  Shaler,  my  great-uncle, 
were  so  curiously  alike  that  they  were  gravely  inconvenienced 
by  the  mistakes  it  caused.  In  the  College  faculty,  he  was  given 
to  seeking  me  for  "a  whack"  of  anecdote,  and  more  than  once 
he  walked  with  me  to  my  door  but  never  entered  it,  nor  was  I 
ever  in  his  house — and  this  at  a  time  when  I  was  in  near  rela- 
tion with  all  the  other  folk  of  Cambridge  who  were  of  the  College 
circle.  Considering  that  I  had  been  in  the  Union  army,  it  is 
hard  to  believe  that  the  fact  that  I  belonged  to  a  slaveholding 
family  and  did  not  regard  holding  slaves  as  infamous  should 
have  been  lifelong  barriers  to  natural  relations;  yet  the  evi- 
dence is  that  Mr.  Ticknor  was  right;  he  had  a  marvellously 
keen  sense  of  human  quality. 

Another  home  where  I  gladly  went  and  often,  was  that  of  my 
father's  classmate  Mr.  Epes  Sargent  Dixwell,  then  the  master  of 


200  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

a  famous  boys'  school  in  Boston,  whence  for  many  years  came 
to  Harvard  a  train  of  youths  who  had  been  well  placed  in  the 
way  of  scholarship  and  imbued  with  the  manly  simplicity  of  his 
admirable  nature.  Like  others  who  live  with  you.th,  Mr.  Dix- 
well  to  the  end  of  his  life  kept  a  large  share  of  it  in  his  soul.  He 
and  his  agreeable  household  gave  me  refuge  in  the  time  when  I 
found  myself  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land ;  for  at  the  outset  New 
England  was  very  foreign  to  me,  and  this  though  I  could  not 
discern  in  what  the  difference  consisted.  It  was  nowhere  in  the 
essentials,  for  at  the  firesides  and  the  tables  of  those  who  were 
so  good  as  to  make  me  welcome  I  found  always  my  own  people, 
so  like  that  I  puzzled  my  wits  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  and 
I  hardly  know  to  this  day  more  of  it  than  I  did  then;  yet  there 
is  the  intangible  something  that  does  not  —  did  not  then  and 
even  now  does  not  —  fit  me,  as  does  the  social  envelope  I  have 
found  in  England.  I  am  inclined  to  think  it  is  a  secondary 
effect  of  Puritanism,  which  offsets  the  method  of  contact  of  man 
with  man.  Some  slight,  but  yet  important  peculiarity  in  the 
way  people  look  at  or  greet  you  or  pass  you  on  the  street  with 
no  sense  of  your  existence  —  matters  of  no  weight,  save  for  the 
fact  that  primitive-minded  folk  are  as  blindly  sensitive  as  are 
dogs  and  other  animals  to  the  manners  of  folk  about  them.  I 
am  the  more  inclined  thus  to  explain  my  salient,  silly  sense  of 
isolation  in  the  old  days,  and  the  remnant  of  it  at  the  end  of  half 
a  century  of  residence  in  New  England,  from  some  experience 
with  folk  of  Quaker  stock.  There  are  to  my  mind  no  more 
estimable  people  in  the  world  than  those  that  owe  their  nurture 
to  that  sect.  Among  them  I  have  found  dear  friends,  but  there 
is  here  too,  though  with  a  distinction  I  cannot  grasp,  the  same 
sense  of  ill  adjustment.  This  is  but  one  of  the  many  things  that 
go  to  show  that  we  feel  many  points  in  our  contacts  with  our 
fellows  which  we  do  not  and  cannot  cognize. 

Mr.  Ticknor's  house  and  that  of  Mr.  Dixwell  were  the  only 
homes  to  which  I  was  accustomed  to  resort.  To  Agassiz's,  in 
my  school  days,  I  never  went  save  on  an  errand ;  the  reason  for 


HOSPITALITY  NORTH  AND  SOUTH          201 

this,  which  he  delicately  conveyed  to  me,  —  he  was  a  master 
in  such  art,  —  was  that  he  could  not  take  in  any  one  of  his  pupils 
without  taking  all,  and  as  he  had  grown  daughters,  it  would  not 
be  fit  that  all  the  somewhat  motley  throng  should  be  thus  ad- 
mitted. That  was  indeed  evident.  Once  at  Nahant,  while  I  was 
wandering  alone  on  the  shore,  he  discovered  me  and  led  me 
forthwith  to  his  summer  home,  taking  pains  by  his  manner  to 
show  that  he  was  glad  thus  to  be  hospitable  when  it  could  come 
in  the  way  of  an  accident. 

It  was  my  custom  to  walk  much  in  the  country  about  Boston, 
usually  alone,  and  across  lots.  On  Sundays,  except  when  hard 
pressed  for  time,  I  usually  set  out  in  the  early  morning  and 
came  back  at  dark.  At  first,  I  tried  to  make  friends  with  the  * 
country  folk  as  I  would  have  done  at  home  with  the  certainty 
of  a  welcome  and  a  meal,  with  no  gratuity  therefor  save  my 
courtesy.  I  found  at  once  that  this  did  not  fit  the  time  and 
place.  I  never  gained  an  entrance  to  a  house  or  to  the  acquaint- 
ance of  a  person,  though  I  thought  I  was  rather  apt  in  dealing 
with  my  fellows.  At  the  time  I  did  not  see  what  afterward  was 
clear  enough,  —  that  this  lack  of  hospitality  was  due  to  the 
fact  that  a  great  town  was  near  by,  and  that  here  as  elsewhere, 
even  in  the  South,  it  had  made  an  end  of  hospitality  to  the 
neighbor.  In  the  other  country  districts  of  New  England,  I 
have  observed  no  notable  difference  in  this  regard  as  compared 
with  the  Southern  country,  except  that  the  stages  of  approach 
are  more  slowly  made;  there  being  in  the  North  no  accepted 
tradition  that  the  stranger  at  the  gate  has  of  right  a  welcome. 
There  is  no  difference  in  the  human  nature  involved  in  the 
action ;  for  that  matter  I  have  found,  the  world  about,  hospi- 
tality to  be  a  characteristic  of  the  genus  Homo,  having  as  good 
a  categoric  value  as  the  naked  hide  or  the  withered  ears. 

These  walks  alone  or  with  a  companion,  commonly  Emerson 
or  Hyatt,  gave  me  a  host  of  small  adventures  with  people  and 
things  that  were  dear  to  me  and  helped  much  in  my  growth. 
At  first,  and  until  I  began  to  get  the  gauge  of  the  New-Eng-  ^ 


202  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

lander,  I  felt  as  if  I  were  in  an  enemy's  country  and  had  to  go 
carefully.  This  was  in  part  because  my  wanderings  were  usually 
on  Sunday  with  a  deep  net,  a  fisherman's  basket,  and  a  botanical 
box  that  showed  that  I  was  on  some  kind  of  diversion.  On  al- 
most the  first  of  my  rambles,  in  what  is  now  called  the  Middlesex 
Fells,  I  encountered  on  a  wood  road  a  sturdy  deacon,  who  asked 
the  business  which  took  me  abroad  on  the  Sabbath.  On  being 
told  I  was  going  to  church,  he  asked  where,  and  when  I  replied 
that  it  was  under  the  great  roof  of  the  sky  where  I  was  sure  of 
the  Lord's  presence,  he  became  angry  and  undertook  to  arrest 
me.  Not  until  I  convinced  him  that  his  Sunday  clothes  would 
soon  be  in  the  roadside  ditch,  did  he  give  over  this  notion.  I 
tried  to  make  the  fuming  heathen  see  that  he  was  the  Sabbath- 
breaker;  asked  him  to  sit  down  and  talk  the  matter  out;  but 
after  the  manner  of  his  kind,  he  was  not  open  to  argument  and 
went  his  way  promising  me,  from  the  distance,  full  share  of 
affliction  in  this  world  and  the  next.  This  deacon  long  stayed 
with  me  for  a  fair  sample  of  the  Puritan,  and  helped  greatly  to 
intensify  my  dislike,  I  may  say  my  abhorrence,  of  Christianity. 
It  was  years  after,  before  I  came  to  see  that  he  and  his  like 
belong  to  a  group  marvellously  escaped  from  the  influence  of 
Jesus,  by  holding  to  the  primitive  brutal  motives  of  man  which 
it  was  the  place  of  the  Master  to  destroy.  The  fact  that  I  could 
not  get  a  "whack"  with  any  I  encountered  on  my  walks,  except 
with  the  evident  pagans,  did  much  to  hinder  my  understanding 
of  what  religion  means. 

In  my  student  days  and  long  afterward,  in  Somerville,  near 
the  Mystic  River,  there  stood  the  ruined  masonry  of  a  Roman 
Catholic  convent,  which  had  been  burned  by  a  Protestant  mob 
in  the  early  part  of  the  last  century,  the  provocation  being,  as 
I  have  understood,  the  idle  rumor  that  a  girl  was  imprisoned 
there.  Although  I  was  brought  up  in  the  English  Church,  it 
was  in  a  tolerant  atmosphere,  where  the  Romanists  were  looked 
upon  good-naturedly,  as  people  who  were  not  so  very  far  off 
from  ourselves.  My  grandfather  Southgate,  as  before  noted, 


WINNING  A  WAGER  203 

was  quite  intimate  with  two  of  their  bishops;  he  commended 
to  me  the  prelates  of  this  faith  as  gentlemen  and  excellent  com- 
pany. Moreover,  Kentucky  has  always  had  a  large  colony  of 
English  Catholics,  —  some  of  them  were  near  friends  in  my  boy- 
hood, —  and  I  have  always  felt  what  seems  to  be  an  instinctive, 
affectionate  reverence  for  nuns.  From  my  earliest  memory  the 
sight  of  them  has  ever  awakened  a  movement  of  the  spirit 
which  no  religious  ceremonies  can  bring  about  in  me.  There- 
fore, the  spectacle  of  this  wreck  of  the  Charlestown  nunnery 
helped  to  intensify  my  dislike  of  the  Puritan  motive.  This  was 
in  the  days  when  the  Know-Nothing  party  was  strong  —  when, 
probably  for  the  last  time,  our  race  was  to  be  revisited  by  the 
fanatical  motives  of  the  Tudor  and  Stuart  period ;  so  that  these 
ruins  served  as  an  effective  monument  of  an  ancient  iniquity. 
They  were  doubtless  kept  there  by  the  church  authorities  for 
that  purpose. 

In  winning  a  wager  with  some  of  my  fellow  students,  I  had  a 
better  view  of  these  ruins,  one  that  made  a  great  impression  on 
my  mind,  for  they  were  the  first  of  such  moss-grown  walls  I 
ever  saw.  The  place  was  well  fenced  in,  and  there  were  guards 
and  dogs  by  day  and  night  to  keep  people  away.  Therefore,  of 
course,  it  was  most  desirable  for  a  student  to  have  a  brick  from 
the  old  walls  on  his  mantelpiece,  and  there  were  many  midnight 
raids  to  secure  such  trophies,  —  mostly  failures,  for  the  watch 
was  good  and  the  dogs  insistent  in  their  duties.  I  was  asked  to 
join  in  one  of  these  ventures,  but  declined.  Being  guyed  at,  I 
wagered  a  dinner  for  the  lot  that  I  could  go  on  a  Sunday  morn- 
ing to  the  gate,  and  without  asking  leave  of  any  one  and  with- 
out any  violence,  proceed  to  the  ruin  and  bring  away  a  choice 
brick.  It  was  agreed,  and  a  committee  was  sent  to  view  the 
proceedings.  I  found  the  guard  with  his  dogs,  got  into  palaver 
with  him;  we  walked  together  to  the  site  of  the  burnt  house;  I 
chose  and  pocketed  my  specimen;  he  accompanied  me  to  the 
gate,  both  of  us  having  had  an  agreeable  half-hour  of  frolic 
together.  He  knew  well  the  game  I  was  playing,  but  being  a 


204  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

broth  of  a  boy,  he  liked  it  —  if  a  man  finds  that  he  does  not  get 
on  well  with  an  Irishman,  he  may  know  that  his  own  human 
nature  is  not  what  it  should  be. 

Another  incident  of  my  walks  stays  in  my  memory  because 
it  has  an  interest  from  the  humanistic  and  naturalistic  side. 
I  had  been  collecting  specimens  of  a  Sunday  morning  along 
the  banks  of  the  Mystic  River  in  Medford.   Returning  in  the 
evening,  I  found  a  place  by  the  old  Middlesex  Canal  where  the 
alewives  were  running  up  to  spawn  and  a  large  gang  of  Irishmen 
were  engaged  in  catching  them.  As  it  was  the  first  time  I  had 
seen  this  anadromous  fish,  I  was  much  interested  in  watching 
the  movements  of  the  sportsmen.  My  large  collecting  basket, 
which  contained  several  black  snakes  and  half  a  dozen  or  so 
bullfrogs,  all  alive,  weighed  upon  me ;  so  I  set  it  down  and  in 
the  course  of  my  wandering  got  on  the  other  side  of  the  canal 
from  it,  and  perhaps  fifty  feet  away  from  where  it  stood  near 
the  fishermen.  Suddenly,  to  my  vast  surprise,  there  came  from 
the  basket  a  wail  precisely  like  that  of  a  young  child  in  pain. 
The  Irishmen  heard  it  also,  and  in  a  moment  a  dozen  of  them 
were  gathered  about  it,  intent  on  inquiry  but  half  afraid  to 
make  it.   Seeing  that  if  they  opened  the  lid  I  should  lose  the 
specimens,  and  fancying  that  it  must  be  some  ventriloquist 
trick,  I  shouted  to  them  to  leave  the  basket  alone  until  I  could 
get  to  it.  This  confirmed  their  suspicions;  they  pulled  out  the 
peg  and  threw  the  lid  back,  when  forth  sprang  the  frogs  and 
snakes,  —  it  was  a  hot  day  and  they  were  nimble.    Away  went 
the  throng  in  wild  fright  at  the  issue  of  their  investigation. 
When  I  won  back  to  the  basket  —  it  was  quite  a  way  to  the 
place  where  I  could  cross  back  over  the  canal  —  my  captives 
had  disappeared;  so  I  filled  the  empty  basket  with  alewives 
and  went  home.  I  had  lost  my  day's  collecting,  but  we  had  fish 
at  the  club  table  in  plenty. 

Though  at  first  I  thought  it  possible  that  the  babe-like  cry 
was  some  trick  of  a  ventriloquist,  I  was  soon  convinced  that 
such  a  trick  was  impossible,  for  the  reason  that  the  basket  stood 


THE  ORIGIN  OF  THE  HUMAN  VOICE        205 

at  a  distance  from  the  party  and  there  was  nothing  to  direct  their 
attention  to  it.  It  was  clear  that  it  came  from  the  throat  of  one 
of  the  bullfrogs,  the  creature  perhaps  being  frightened  by  the 
presence  of  the  snakes.  I  could  not  find  from  any  of  my  naturalist 
friends  that  such  a  wailing  note  was  recognized  as  a  sound  these 
creatures  make,  nor  was  there  any  account  of  it  in  the  books  I 
searched.  I  tried  to  have  the  sound  repeated,  and  for  a  long 
time  without  success ;  finally  I  heard  it  once  again,  not  so  clear 
as  in  the  first  instance,  but  sufficiently  so  to  make  the  observa- 
tion certain;  a  curiously  human  sound  which  would  any  where  be 
taken  for  an  infant's  wail.  Since  then  I  have  found  two  other 
persons  who  have  heard  it  from  the  same  species. 

To  me  this  observation  is  most  interesting,  because  it  shows 
the  primitive  human  cry  as  existing  in  a  group  which  is  sepa- 
rated from  us  by  thousands  of  species.  The  identity  is  due  to 
the  early  establishment  of  the  relations  between  the  lungs,  the 
vocal  chords,  and  the  emotions,  which  has  in  some  forms  re- 
mained in  the  series  to  this  day.  In  many  groups  the  conditions 
have  been  somewhat  altered,  but  in  nearly  all  the  mammalian 
forms  the  young,  when  frightened  or  in  pain,  will  give  out  a  cry 
of  the  same  general  nature,  one  distinctly  different  from  what 
comes  from  the  reptiles  or  the  birds.  The  existence  of  this  mode 
of  expression  among  the  amphibia,  while  it  is  lacking  in  the 
reptiles  and  the  birds,  serves  in  some  measure  to  confirm  the 
other  evidence  to  the  effect  that  the  mammalia  were  derived 
from  amphibian  ancestors. 

Of  all  my  lesser  excursions,  I  most  enjoyed  those  along  the 
seashore.  Watching  for  the  lowest  run  of  tides,  I  delighted  to 
wander  in  the  sea  mud-flats,  and  especially  among  the  boulders 
which  abound  in  the  bottom,  off  the  cliffs  of  boulder  clay.  The 
richness  of  this  life  along  the  New  England  coast  would  not  be 
suspected  by  those  who  do  not  watch  for  the  rare  occasions 
when  the  tides  have  the  fullest  swing  and  the  wind  is  off-shore. 
I  was  also  given  at  such  times  to  searching  with  a  boat  the  spiles 
of  the  bridges  in  the  inlets  about  Boston,  where  the  display 


206  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

of  the  sea-anemones  often  affords  a  spectacle  of  marvellous 
beauty. 

In  my  undergraduate  days  it  was  the  custom  to  keep  aquaria 
in  our  rooms  and  in  them  to  establish  all  the  forms  we  could 
contrive  to  make  live  there.  He  was  the  smartest  fellow  who 
had  the  greatest  number  of  species  in  the  cubic  foot  or  two  of 
water  the  vessel  contained.  To  do  the  work  well  means  that 
we  had  frequently  to  pack  fresh  sea-water  from  the  Charles 
River  at  the  proper  stage  of  the  tide,  and  also  to  rig  up  some 
contrivance  for  aerating  the  water;  much  time  and  originality 
were  spent  on  such  devices.  In  these  days,  when  some  kind  of 
histology  is  the  aim  of  the  naturalist,  the  aquarium  has  passed 
out  of  use.  I  have  not  seen  one  in  a  student's  room  in  thirty 
years.  They  know  much  more  of  structure,  but  far  less  of  life 
than  in  my  student  days. 


CHAPTER  XV 

OFF   TO    THE    WAR 

IN  leaving  Cambridge,  I  remember  taking  account  of  what  I  had 
done  in  the  three  and  a  half  years  that  I  had  been  a  student 
there.  Although  at  that  day,  I  fully  expected  that  three  years 
of  work  would  not  serve  as  the  foundations  of  a  career,  for  the 
reason  that  I  was  going  into  conditions  of  grave  stress  with 
what  seemed  to  be  a  scant  measure  of  strength,  so  that  I  was 
pretty  sure  to  find  the  way  out  in  the  field  or  in  the  hospital, 
I  was  yet  contented  with  the  instrument.  In  the  three  years 
of  my  connection  with  the  University  I  had  worked  hard  and 
continuously,  and  with  a  clear  purpose,  which  was  to  lay  the 
foundations  for  work  in  natural  history  with  specialization  in 
geology.  Although  the  official  instruction  I  had  access  to  was 
scanty,  almost  absurd  in  its  limitations,  the  contriving  I  had 
done  to  supplement  it  had  been  fairly  successful.  From  Marcou, 
Jackson,  and  Rogers  there  had  come  good  help,  but  the  best,  it 
seemed,  was  from  my  sense  that  I  had  to  be  untiringly  vigilant 
in  using  all  the  opportunities  which  the  field,  the  books,  and 
the  men  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  know  could  give  me.  Moreover, 
in  this  endeavor  I  had  learned  how  to  deal  with  men  of  my  own 
group.  The  fact  that  from  about  the  age  of  fourteen  until  I  came 
to  Cambridge  I  had  not  been  in  a  boy's  school,  but  with  an 
ancient  philosopher,  was  in  certain  ways  a  misfortune;  for  it 
left  me  untrained  in  the  art  of  dealing  with  youths  of  my  own 
age.  The  intense  life  of  the  group  of  students  with  which  I  had 
been  thrown  quickly  made  me,  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word, 
a  man  of  the  world,  ready  to  meet  his  neighbor  in  the  give-and- 
take  which  is  the  most  important  feature  in  a  college  education. 
The  only  unfortunate  feature  in  this  Cambridge  student  life 
was  the  narrow  range  of  acquaintances  I  had  a  chance  to  make. 


208     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

Though  I  hungered  for  the  society  of  like-minded  mates,  there 
were  in  all  not  more  than  two  score  with  whom  I  had  even  the 
chance  of  such  acquaintance  as  might  lead  to  intimacy.  There 
is  a  common  notion  that  Agassiz  had  a  great  following  of  young 
men,  but  in  the  three  years  I  was  with  him  as  a  pupil,  two  of 
them  the  best  of  his  teaching  time,  there  were  never  more  than 
a  dozen  youths  who  belonged  to  his  group;  and  some  of  these 
were  of  a  social  quality  that  did  not  attract  me.  The  most  of 
my  associates,  outside  of  half  a  dozen  in  Agassiz's  group  of  stu- 
dents, were  in  the  other  separate  folds  of  the  Scientific  School ; 
one  or  two  with  Asa  Gray  and  Wyman,  and  a  few  with  Cooke 
in  the  department  of  chemistry.  I  also  came  to  know  some  of 
the  young  men  who  were  in  the  Nautical  Almanac  office,  then 
kept  in  a  house  on  the  north  side  of  the  Cambridge  Common. 
I  had  also  some  contact  with  two  or  three  young  men  who  were 
connected  with  the  Observatory,  especially  with  Philip  Sidney 
Coolidge,  of  whom  I  have  already  said  much.  With  the  youths 
in  the  College,  none  of  us  had  much  to  do,  except  when,  as  in 
the  case  of  Leslie  Waggener,  there  were  special  reasons  for  our 
coming  together.  I  had  a  "hail-fellow-well-met"  relation  with 
perhaps  half  a  dozen  of  these  academic  youths,  and  an  affection 
for  some  of  them,  but  save  in  Waggener's  case  nothing  that 
could  be  called  friendship  ever  came  from  our  contacts.  As  a 
group  they  seemed  to  me  tiresome,  with  no  intensity  of  purpose 
and  a  very  limited  sense  of  the  world;  at  that  time  I  had  a 
preposterous  sense  of  my  insight  into  the  doings  of  the  sphere. 
Looking  back  on  myself  in  my  undergraduate  days,  I  am 
inclined  to  suspect  that  I  may  have  been  a  bit  priggish ;  yet 
when  I  remember  that  I  was  one  of  the  noisiest,  and  the  leader 
in  sundry  larks  and  with  a  humor  for  fighting,  I  am  inclined 
to  believe  that  there  was  a  fair  share  of  unconsciousness  in  my 
life;  my  relations  with  my  mates  bear  this  out.  While  I  had 
nothing  to  do  with  their  hard  drinking,  then  a  common  vice  with 
the  groups  I  knew,  nor  with  other  forms  of  dissipation,  our 
relations  seemed  none  the  worse  because  of  these  limitations. 


ATTITUDE  TOWARDS  VICE  209 

This  was  probably  because  my  attitude  towards  vice  was  not 
based  upon  religious  scruples,  but  was  due  to  a  primitive  sense 
of  cleanliness,  a  vivid  dislike  to  certain  things  because  they  stank. 
I  had  the  advantage  of  my  mates,  in  that  debauchery  was  not 
novel  to  me,  as  it  was  to  nearly  all  of  them.  In  the  rude,  uncon- 
cealed life  where  I  was  brought  up,  filth  had  always  been  visible, 
so  it  had  no  mysterious  charm.  Moreover,  the  philosophical 
way  of  looking  at  things  which  I  had  developed  while  with 
Escher  had,  by  the  help  of  inheritance,  given  me  a  certain 
antiquity  of  soul  at  its  foundation,  so  that  I  looked  upon  the 
doings  of  men  with  an  amused  interest  which  kept  me  then  as 
ever  since  much  in  the  attitude  of  the  spectator.  So  it  fell  to 
me,  who  was  the  youngest  of  the  lot,  to  be,  as  I  was  often  called, 
the  old  man ;  to  help  the  roisterers  out  of  their  messes,  and  to 
see  them  through  the  stage  of  soda-water  and  repentance. 

It  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that  at  three  months  over  one 
and  twenty  I  was  older  in  spirit  than  I  am  now.  In  fact,  I  look 
back  on  myself  with  a  certain  perplexity  in  my  efforts  to  account 
for  this  curious  state.  The  condition  was  probably  due  to  the 
fact  that  I  had  been  a  rather  solitary  child,  had  suffered  much 
from  illness  which  too  early  forced  introspection,  had  lacked 
the  good  effects  of  public  schooling,  and  had  been  too  soon 
inducted  into  philosophic  ways.  That  I  was  not  made  a  prig 
was  due  to  my  keen  interest  in  people,  which  led  me  to  lose  the 
over-consciousness  of  self  which  is  the  necessary  basis  of  that 
detestable  product  of  super-civilization. 

In  my  training  up  to  my  majority  there  was  very  much  lack- 
ing, but  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  come  under  the  influence  of 
several  strong  men,  who  in  some  measure  imbued  me  with  their 
personalities  and  on  whom  directly  or  by  reaction  I  was  to  some 
extent  shaped.  My  grandfather  and  my  father  in  my  childhood 
in  diverse  ways  opened  the  outer  world  to  me;  so,  too,  did  the 
unhappy  Marshall.  Probably  no  drunken  genius  ever  did  so 
much  to  enlarge  a  lad  as  he.  Escher  had  shown  me  the  philoso- 
pher in  many  ways  at  his  best  and  his  worst;  but  of  all  Agassiz 


210  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

had  vastly  stimulated  my  intelligence  and  had  given  me  the 
sense  of  the  inquiring  motive.  To  this  work  he  brought  not  only 
a  majestic  and  charming  personality,  but  the  body  of  tradition 
which  had  grown  up  among  the  naturalists  of  the  marvellous 
period  of  the  European  awakening  misnamed  the  French  Revo- 
lution. His  method  of  teaching  was  that  of  the  great  school 
wherein  he  had  his  nurture,  vivified  by  his  sympathy  and  his 
enthusiasm.  More  than  most  of  his  pupils,  I  had  been  made 
ready  for  his  hands,  and  my  three  years  with  him  gave  me  rapid 
development. 

I  would  I  could  have  set  down  a  fit  acknowledgment  of  my 
debt  through  all  my  days  to  the  women  whose  influence  has 
entered  into  my  life  and  shaped  for  the  best  whatever  has  de- 
veloped in  me.  I  feel  that  I  cannot  do  this  part  of  my  task  even 
to  myself,  so  it  will  have  to  remain  undone.  It  is,  however,  fit 
to  say  that  it  has  been  my  good  fortune  from  the  age  of  fifteen 
years  on,  to  be  always  in  large  measure  controlled  by  women 
of  high  character.  For  this  I  am  devoutly  thankful ;  for  it  kept 
me  from  the  pit  whereto  I  have  seen  so  many  go.  While  a  man 
should  be  a,  man's  man  in  quality,  taking  his  measure  from  his 
relations  with  his  own  sex,  in  my  opinion  he  cannot  attain  his 
full  stature  without  the  influence  of  women.  Of  himself  alone 
the  male  human  is  a  mere  fragment  of  his  kind ;  he  attains  to  his 
humanity  through  the  shaping  influence  of  its  better  half. 

In  my  "account  of  stock"  which  I  remember  making  as  I 
went  from  Cambridge  to  Kentucky,  I  found  not  much  that  was 
likely  to  be  of  value  in  the  work  before  me.  On  the  moral  side, 
the  equipment  lacked  the  motive  commonly  noted  as  patriot- 
ism or  love  of  the  "old  flag,"  that  humor  which  is  well  summed 
up  in  the  cry  of  "our  country,  right  or  wrong."  This  stimu- 
lating, primitive  emotion  appears  to  have  been  left  out  in  my 
making.  I  felt,  it  is  true,  a  certain  measure  of  allegiance  to  my 
native  commonwealth,  not  to  its  name  or  area,  but  to  the 
people,  for  the  reason  that  I  knew  and  loved  them.  I  firmly 
believed  that  the  Federal  Union  was  a  most  useful  convenience 


JOINING  THE  FEDERAL  ARMY  211 

for  uniting  like  states  for  protection  and  interchange.  But 
there  was  no  such  movement  of  the  spirit  as  I  found  in  others 
at  the  mention  of  state  or  nation.  My  interest,  then  as  now, 
was  in  the  purposes  of  governments,  not  in  mere  edifices.  I  am 
not  commending  this  rather  arid  state  of  mind ;  it  was  to  me  a 
misfortune,  for  the  reason  that  it  set  and  thus  kept  me  apart 
from  my  fellows.  It  is  well  for  a  man  to  have  his  adequate  part 
of  all  the  primitive  motives,  even  when  he  has  to  subjugate 
them.  I  went  about  my  business  with  the  war  not  only  without 
enthusiasm,  but  in  a  hard,  reckoning  way,  intending  to  do  the 
best  I  could  to  support  the  Union,  as  I  would  do  the  like  for  any 
business  institution  in  which  I  was  concerned,  and  at  the  same 
time  to  do  what  I  could  to  maintain  the  rights  of  the  several 
states. 

As  for  the  rest  of  my  poor  stock  for  the  trade  of  war,  it  con- 
sisted in  a  weak  body  that  could  not  be  expected  to  withstand 
stress :  there  was  no  determined  disease,  but  a  general  ineffi- 
ciency. The  extremity  of  this  is  well  shown  by  the  remark  of 
a  rugged  cherry-cheeked  young  friend,  a  certain  Dr.  P.,  who 
was  at  the  time  of  our  parting  also  going  to  the  Federal  army. 
He  said,  "  Good-by,  Shaler,  you  won't  stand  the  racket  three 
months;  you  look  like  a  ghost  already."  While  I  agreed  with 
him  in  his  judgment  as  to  my  appearance,  this  frank  statement 
nettled  me;  so  I  proposed  that  the  one  who  first  crossed  the 
Styx,  should  sit  on  the  further  bank  until  the  other  one  passed 
over.  We  shook  hands  on  that  contract.  If  the  dear  fellow  kept 
the  agreement,  he  has  been  waiting  for  me  by  the  dark  river 
for  four  and  forty  years ;  for  he  who  seemed  embodied  toughness 
went  down  at  once,  while  the  peripatetic  ghost  withstood  far 
more  serious  trials  and  came  forth  for  decades  of  service. 

As  soon  as  I  arrived  in  Kentucky,  I  went  straightway  to 
Frankfort,  the  state  capital,  to  put  myself  in  the  line  of  service, 
whatever  it  might  be.  I  found  there  many,  perhaps  some  score, 
of  the  men  I  had  known,  my  elders  as  well  as  those  of  my  own 
generation.  I  had  from  them  at  once  a  deep  consolation  in  the 


212     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

fact  that  the  wiser  of  them,  all  indeed  but  the  silly  fellows,  were 
no  more  affected  with  patriotism  than  I  was  myself;  they  were 
in  a  business  state  of  mind,  directed  to  have  reckonings  on  the 
hard  problem  before  them,  ready  to  act  swiftly  and  together 
when  a  definite  thing  was  to  be  done.  They  had  just  then  made 
an  end  of  the  maundering  Beriah  Magoffin,  a  vastly  patriotic 
incompetent,  who  had  obstructed  the  better  men  since  the  be- 
ginning of  the  trouble.  This  they  had  accomplished  by  dint  of 
some  very  patient  and  kindly  advice  and  due  form  of  law.  The 
benevolent  governor  had  joined  the  Confederacy,  and  by  so 
doing  had  made  a  vacancy  in  the  office  of  president  of  the  senate. 
To  this  place,  before  Magoffin  resigned,  there  was  chosen  Senator 
James  F.  Robinson,  an  admirable  choice  in  every  way.  .  .  . 


THE  MEMOIR 


THE  MEMOIR 

FOREWORD 

1859-1862 

IN  one  of  his  early  note-books  Mr.  Shaler  writes,  "  I  have  kept 
a  journal  since  I  was  twelve  years  old,  but  from  carelessness  I 
have  preserved  only  a  few  pages  of  many  hundreds;  unless  I 
pursue  a  greater  regularity  it  can  never  accomplish  the  inten- 
tion I  design."  Had  he  taken  the  time  to  look  over  this  journal, 
fragmentary  as  it  is,  he  would  have  found  how  much  he  had 
forgotten  —  the  spiritual  travel  toward  ideals  which  later  were 
so  amply  developed  and  fulfilled,  the  names  of  books  which 
gave  him  delight  and  laid  the  foundation  of  his  education,  and 
poems,  full  of  sentiment,  written  on  the  spur  of  the  moment. 
All  these  aids  to  memory  might  have  tempted  him  to  wander 
still  farther  afield  in  the  world  of  reminiscence.  Nevertheless 
in  the  foregoing  pages  nothing  essential  is  omitted.  The  jour- 
nal and  other  private  papers  do,  however,  declare  more  con- 
vincingly than  could  any  retrospective  chronicle  the  fact  that 
in  Mr.  Shaler's  spiritual  progress  there  was  no  ground  lost,  but 
from  boyhood  onward  a  steady  upward  movement  of  mind  and 
character.  Moreover,  there  are  many  passages  in  this  youthful 
record  which  show  singular  self-knowledge,  and  others  which 
reveal  doubts  and  apprehensions  that  were  never  justified. 
He  writes :  — 

June  15,  1859.  .  .  .  Life  is  sweet  to  me,  dearer  now  because  I  only  now 
begin  to  see  its  glories  and  to  know  my  duty ;  still  I  feel  within  me  much  want 
of  the  sterling  courage  so  needful.  I  cannot  float  down  the  waters,  and  yet  I 
doubt  my  strength  for  the  long  struggle  which  is  before  me  if  I  live.  If  I 
live  my  spirit  compels  me  to  think,  and  that  too  in  a  tangent  to  the  thing 


216     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

called  public  opinion.  I  believe  every  thought  conceived  in  the  spirit  of 
truth  demands  utterance  as  if  it  were  the  word  of  all  nature ;  so  my  life  if 
ever  I  should  come  into  the  sphere  of  action  would  of  necessity  be  a  struggle, 
vehement  on  one  side,  earnest  at  first  but  soon  faltering  and  weary  on  my  own. 

The  lack  of  "sterling  courage"  was  never  his,  nor  when  once 
convinced  that  his  course  was  right  did  his  spirit  ever  falter  or 
grow  weary.  Fearlessness  characterized  his  acts  from  the  very 
beginning  of  manhood.  It  showed  itself  in  his  political  inde- 
pendence; and  later,  though  he  was  still  a  young  man,  in  teach- 
ing the  principles  of  Evolution  at  a  time  when  the  dominant 
scientific  influence  in  Cambridge  was  antagonistic  to  it.  For 
months  preceding  the  Civil  War,  Mr.  Shaler  was  subjected  to  a 
veritable  cross-fire  of  political  and  rhetorical  expression  con- 
cerning the  coming  conflict.  These  letters,  mostly  written  by 
Southern  sympathizers,  —  indeed  nearly  all  whom  he  loved 
best  were  committed  to  that  cause,  —  were  dictated  by  unselfish 
and  generous  motives  and  therefore  are  creditable  to  those  who 
wrote  them;  but  especially  to  him,  since  they  bear  witness  to 
the  social  pressure  which  he  resisted  in  taking  his  stand  on  the 
side  of  the  Union.  In  one  of  his  own  letters,  brushing  aside 
the  fine-spun  speculations  of  his  correspondent,  he  gives,  in  a 
few  words,  for  one  of  his  age  a  singularly  discerning  picture  of 
the  social  situation.  He  writes :  — 

There  is  a  civilization  possible,  having  negro  slavery  for  its  foundation, 
and  a  cultivation  not  wanting  in  many  elements  of  moral  and  intellectual 
beauty ;  but  it  is  a  civilization  and  society  of  the  Middle  Ages  with  the  lighter 
circumstances  of  the  nineteenth  century  —  a  feudal  castle  with  modern 
furniture.  Such  is  the  society  south  of  Mason  and  Dixon's  Line.  The  North, 
on  the  contrary,  is  the  creature  of  the  day,  never  behind  the  march  of 
nations  but  a  pioneer. 

After  1861 1  find  no  trace  of  a  journal ;  henceforth  Mr.  Shaler 's 
observations  of  natural  phenomena  were  converted  into  mate- 
rial for  lectures  or  writings,  while  his  experiences  with  men  and 
things  were  transmuted  into  a  personal  philosophy,  which 
eventually  found  literary  expression  in  such  books  as  "The 


AS  A  LETTER-WRITER  217 

Individual,"  "The  Neighbor,"  and  "The  Citizen."  He  turned 
over  many  times  the  things  which  came  to  him  in  life,  making 
varied  applications  of  the  lessons  he  learned.  The  emotional 
side  of  his  nature,  especially  in  early  manhood,  found  vent 
whether  on  a  railroad  train,  while  waiting  in  a  station,  or  in 
some  lonely  place,  in  a  few  lines  of  poetry;  sometimes  the 
thought  is  extended  to  the  limits  of  a  sonnet,  but  seldom  fur- 
ther. After  the  moment's  satisfaction  of  writing  them  these 
fragments  were  cast  aside  and  forgotten.  They  are  generally  in 
the  minor  key,  provoked  by  a  bit  of  beautiful  scenery,  or  by 
some  fleeting  aspect  of  nature  which  called  forth  the  idea  of 
death,  an  idea  which  was  ever  present  with  him,  probably  for 
the  reason  that  he  was  often  ill,  and  also  because  neither  parent 
endowed  him  with  the  spirit  of  buoyancy.  This  was  a  cultivated 
fruit  of  his  advancing  years. 

Besides  Mr.  Shaler's  letters  to  his  family  but  few  have  come 
into  my  hands;  indeed,  he  was  in  no  sense  a  letter- writer,  and 
late  in  life  those  with  whom  he  might  naturally  have  corre- 
sponded he  met  in  daily  intercourse.  Furthermore,  although 
his  handwriting  was  beguilingly  fair,  instead  of  a  key  it  became 
almost  a  barrier  to  his  thought,  and  for  this  reason,  after  the 
gist  of  what  he  had  to  say  was  laboriously  arrived  at,  few  were 
tempted  to  put  aside  his  letters  for  future  reading.  But,  even 
if  they  had  been  preserved,  it  is  doubtful  whether  they  would 
have  furnished  much  of  a  personal  nature.  During  one  of  his 
visits  to  Europe  his  father  writes :  - 

...  I  have  received  an  appendix  to  one  of  Sophy's  letters  written  on  a 
piece  of  paper  about  as  big  as  your  hand,  without  one  word  about  your 
health,  or  enjoyment,  or  sight  of  places,  but  an  engineering  disquisition 
on  the  water-supply  of  Newport  from  the  Licking  River,  which,  at  this  time, 
could  not  water  a  herd  of  buffalo. 

The  fervid  rate  at  which  men  lived  in  the  early  sixties  of  the 
last  century  may  be  inferred  from  the  events  which  took  place 
in  Mr.  Shaler's  own  life  before  he  had  reached  the  age  of  twenty- 
two.  He  already  had  taken  his  S.B.  degree  with  honors;  had 


218     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

become  a  captain  of  artillery;  and  had  chosen  his  wife.1  This 
fervor  of  a  particular  period  which  he  shared  with  others, 
eventually  crystallized  into  a  permanent  personal  quality,  for 
without  fervor  he  could  never  have  gone  out  as  he  did  to  meet 
life  on  all  sides.  Rich  experiences  came  to  him  in  military  and 
civil  affairs,  in  his  work  as  field  geologist,  mining  expert,  di- 
rector of  a  state  survey,  member  of  various  state  commissions 
and  of  two  bureaus  of  the  national  government;  as  traveller, 
prose  writer  on  many  subjects,  and  poet.  At  twenty-three  he 
became  lecturer,  at  twenty -seven  professor,  and  dean  at  fifty. 
This  brief  summary  indicates  the  large  lines  on  which  Mr. 
Shaler  might  have  continued  his  autobiography.  What  follows 
in  this  memoir  is  necessarily  meagre  compared  with  what  he 
had  in  his  power  to  communicate  had  it  been  given  him  to  con- 
tinue the  narrative  of  his  life ;  for,  with  truth,  he  may  be  likened 
to  a  ship  that  has  gone  down  deep-laden  with  treasure. 

i  He  was  married  in  the  autumn  of  1862  to  Sophia  Penn  Page,  the  daughter  of  the  Rev. 
Charles  H.  Page,  of  Virginia.  The  young  people  had  known  each  other  from  childhood. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE   WAR 

1862-1867 

REMINDED  by  some  old  letters  that  he  came  across,  Mr.  Shaler 
stated  in  a  paper  published  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly,  January, 
1882,  the  reasons  that  led  him,  though  Southern  or  States'- 
Rights  in  his  sympathies,  to  join  the  North.  It  was  the  fear 
that  Southern  success  would  make  for  both  peoples  strong, 
centralized,  continually  warring  governments  in  which  States' 
Rights  would  be  completely  swamped.  He  was  so  determinately 
a  believer  in  the  doctrine  of  States'  Rights  that  he  was  always 
opposed  to  the  Republican  Party  and  the  spirit  of  centralization 
which  it  embodied. 

In  the  summer  of  1862,  Mr.  Shaler  received  a  commission 
from  the  government  to  raise  what  was  known  as  the  Fifth 
Kentucky  Battery.  Although  the  extremists  on  both  sides  had 
long  since  gathered  around  the  flags  of  their  respective  alle- 
giances the  Confederate  movement  in  Kentucky,  under  the 
command  of  Generals  Bragg,  Heth,  and  Kirby  Smith  at  the  high 
tide  of  the  Civil  War,  brought  the  conservative  element  into 
full  activity.  There  had  already  been  an  exodus  of  some  forty 
thousand  of  the  natural  leaders  and  fighting  population  to  the 
Southern  army.  Kentucky  had  also  contributed  its  full  share 
to  the  Federal  forces,  almost  without  bounties  and  practically 
without  a  draft ;  and  yet  there  were  fighting  men  left  who  sprang 
up  everywhere  eager  to  bar  the  veteran  host.  When  Heth's  army 
assumed  a  commanding  position  within  five  miles  of  Cincinnati,1 
there  was  hardly  a  single  regiment  on  the  ground  that  could 

i  See  an  account  of  this  period  in  Kentucky,  by  N.  S.  Shaler,  in  the  American  Common- 
wealths Series. 


220  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

have  been  trusted  in  the  open  field.  The  defences  consisted  of 
a  few  weak  redoubts  where  guns  were  like  angels'  visits,  few 
and  far  between,  "  connected  by  rifle  pits,  behind  which  the 
'squirrel  hunters/  as  the  volunteers  were  termed,  found  a  posi- 
tion where  it  was  hoped  they  could  make  some  resistance." 
Colonel  Lew  Wallace,  who  was  in  command,  showed  singular 
energy  in  the  work  of  organization ;  so  that  the  show  of  resist- 
ance on  the  Ohio  in  connection  with  Buell's  movements  and 
Bragg's  dilatoriness  caused  the  Confederates  to  lose  a  golden 
opportunity  for  doing  great  things  for  their  cause.  Captain 
Shaler's  battery  was  called  into  action  during  this  period  of  tur- 
moil. His  first  camping-ground  was  at  Lexington,  from  which 
the  following  letter  was  written  to  his  wife.1 

Camp  Clay,  Nov.,  '62. 

...  Do  you  remember  the  old  grove  beyond  Ashland  on  the  road  from 
Lexington?  We  rode  by  it  one  morning  about  two  months  ago.  Little  did 
I  then  think  that  I  should  have  a  camp  pitched  under  the  shade  of  its  vener- 
able trees  before  their  leaves  had  fallen.  ...  I  am  not  half  well,  having 
a  bad  cold,  severe  enough  to  send  me  to  the  hospital  were  I  a  private  in  the 
ranks:  as  it  is,  I  must  try  and  keep  on  my  feet  for  a  few  days  until  it  is  fully 
decided  what  the  fate  of  my  men  is  to  be.  Were  I  to  consult  my  own  in- 
clinations, I  should  soon  be  out  of  this  business,  and  be  quite  sure  that  the 
long  coming  winter  would  be  spent  quietly  with  you :  but  I  must  not  con- 
sult my  own  inclinations.  My  officers  and  men  have  a  claim  upon  me  which 
I  cannot  overlook.  I  must  secure  to  them  fair  treatment  before  I  look  to 
myself.  .  .  . 

A  friend  wrote  at  this  time :  " .  .  .  Nat  has  a  bad  cold  and  I 
think  will  be  unwise  to  stay  in  camp,  for  though  the  weather  is 
pleasant,  typhoid  pneumonia  prevails  among  the  soldiers,  most 
of  the  cases  in  hospital  being  of  that  character,  —  so,  know- 
ing his  obstinacy,  you  had  better  come  and  look  after  him. 
He  will  dine  with  us  to-day  and  will  not  return  to  camp  until 
to-morrow." 

His  health  undermined  by  chills  and  fever,  Mr.  Shaler  suc- 
cumbed to  an  attack  of  bronchitis,  and  was  advised  for  a  time 

i  All  letters  not  otherwise  designated  are  addressed  to  his  wife. 


WAR  EXPERIENCES  TOLD  IN  VERSE        221' 

to  give  up  his  command,  which  he  did,  again  going  into  the 
field  when  Morgan  raided  Ohio  in  the  summer  of  '63.  Of  this 
anticipated  event  he  writes:  "To-day  there  is  a  neat  prospect 
of  a  little  episode  of  the  Kirby  Smith  order;  can't  tell  what 
it  portends,  but  unless  all  signs  fail,  my  wife  will  be  sewing 
brass  buttons  on  my  coats  and  looking  up  my  epaulettes.  I 
am  in  poor  condition  to  do  soldier's  duty,  but  cannot  set 
private  claims  against  the  call  to  defend  home  and  fireside. 
Why  the  deuce  don't  the  rascals  keep  t'other  side  of  Cumber- 
land?" 

Many  of  his  personal  experiences  while  in  this  campaign  are 
recorded  in  the  volume  of  poems  entitled,  "From  Old  Fields." 
"The  Eager  Muster,"  "East  Tennesseans,"  "The  Georgians," 
"Madame  B.'s  Review,"  "The  General's  Yarn,"  "The  Smug- 
glers," are  altogether  reminiscent.  In  "A  Midnight  Venture" 
he  himself  was  the  "lank  youth,"  "with  Fate's  load  on  his 
shoulders,"  who  stood  as  captain. 

Type  of  lads 

In  the  hard  wrestle  of  the  Civil  War, 
Who  'fore  their  beards  were  grown  and  gristle  set 
Were  burthened  with  the  cares  to  weigh  down  men 
Who  Ve  grizzled  in  the  trade. 

In  the  poem  called  "The  Burial  Place"  it  is  he  who,  while  in 
the  family  burying-ground  looking  for  the  fairest  place  for  one 
more  grave  (his  mother's), — 

Where  she  shall  bide 
Who  long  hath  striven  faithfully  to  serve 
God's  will  on  earth,  — 

notices  on  the  face  of  his  grandfather's  monument  a  deep 
moss-grown  scar  made  by  heavy  wheels,  and  tells  the  lad  beside 
him,  forty  years  after  the  event,  the  tale  of  how  it  came  about 
when  "  swiftly  and  clear  "  rang  the  commands  of  "  a  master 
of  hard  deeds  " :  — 

But  first  of  all  to  me, 
To  go  upon  the  run  upon  this  crest 


222     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

And  place  my  pieces  by  this  monument 

Sweeping  the  highway  yonder  in  the  vale. 

Then  in  a  moment,  forth  the  battery 

Swept  down  the  slope  before  it,  broke  right  through 

The  walls  and  fences,  then  into  that  gulch 

In  seeming  ruin,  yet  with  gear  unharmed 

And  horses  stout  enough  to  pull  it  out, 

With  spur  and  lash  to  speed  them  up  the  slope. 

"The  Way  with  Mutineers"  is  another  record  of  his  own 
experience:  — 

If  you  need  exploration  of  your  soul, 
Get  a  command  of  raw  men  —  reprobates 
From  minstrel  shows  and  jails.  Tumble  them  in 
Red-hot  campaign  to  shape  them  on  the  march 
And  in  the  fight  for  service.  You  '11  soon  find 
Their  stuff  and  yours. 

In  "The  Great  Raid,"  a  vivid  description  of  Morgan's  march 
into  Ohio,  he  tells  of  good  Master  Greenwood's  invitation  to 
share  a  breakfast  with  him.  After  two  days'  feeding  from  sad- 
dle-pockets none  too  full,  the  famished  youth,  first  stationing 
his  orderly  by  the  window  (through  which  in  the  course  of  time 
he  got  his  share  of  the  victuals)  to  keep  watch,  gladly  welcomed 
the  chance  to  fill  his  hungry  stomach.  When  the  breakfast  was 
done,  the  host  —  a  maker  of  great  guns,  with  also  a  taste  for 
curious  toys  —  put  upon  the  bare  floor  some  dolls  (just  arrived 
from  Paris)  to  "strut  and  dance  and  quaver  words  of  French" : 
these  so  well  acting  their  comedy  as  to  make  entertainer  and 
guest,  now  on  all  fours,  not  only  split  their  sides  with  laughter 
but  forget  altogether  that  the  tide  of  war  rolled  scarce  a  league 
away.  By  chance  they  glanced  toward  the  window,  where  to 
their  consternation  they  beheld  the  orderly  with  "jaw-dropped 
wonder  looking  at  the  play." 

Three  leaps,  and  our  scared  leader's  on  his  steed, 
Spurring  his  best  straightway  across  the  fields, 
To  save  a  furlong  length,  cursing  the  fool 
That  harbored  in  his  hide. 


THE  WAR  IN  KENTUCKY  223 

Many  years  after  the  war,  at  his  own  table,  Mr.  Shaler  nar- 
rated this  episode  to  a  famous  teller  of  stories  —  just  then  the 
people's  idol  and  whose  hand  students  waiting  in  the  library 
were  eager  to  grasp.  The  guest  listened  with  rapt  attention, 
and  when  the  tale  was  finished,  he  exclaimed:  "Now  that's 
just  the  kind  of  thing  no  man  can  invent  —  it  is  unimaginable. 
May  I  have  it  for  my  own?" 

Mr.  Shaler  greatly  admired  John  Morgan's  military  exploits; 
indeed,  there  was  a  spiritual  affinity  between  them  in  dash  and 
power  of  invention.  In  his  history  of  Kentucky  he  lays  stress 
upon  the  fact  that  "  Morgan's  subordinate  officers  were  nearly 
all  Kentuckians."  "Their  wonderful  work,"  he  writes,  "is  per- 
haps the  best  evidence  of  the  military  capacity  of  this  people. 
More  than  any  other  it  shows  the  people  to  possess  fertility  of 
invention,  endurance,  and  the  vigor  in  action  demanded  in  suc- 
cessful war." 

It  was  a  dismal  time  in  Kentucky  during  all  the  years  '63  and 
'64,  for  although  the  state  was  no  longer  the  pathway  of  great 
armies,  many  of  the  greatest  events  then  happening  took  place 
in  its  immediate  vicinity.  Its  fertile  lands  and  rich  supplies 
provoked  a  series  of  small  raids  which  incessantly  harassed  the 
people.  To  these  were  added  the  still  more  grievous  hardships 
of  guerilla  warfare.  Bands  made  up  of  the  unsoldierly  rubbish, 
deserters,  and  outlaws  of  both  armies,  invaded  the  state  and 
brought  back  to  Kentucky  the  evils  of  Indian  strife.  Men  again 
tilled  their  fields  with  their  muskets  by  their  sides,  and  slept  in 
expectation  of  combat.  The  destruction  of  property  and  the 
depreciation  of  land  values  touched  the  pockets  of  all  classes  in 
the  community,  while  the  loss  of  the  loved  ones  bowed  down 
the  hearts  of  the  people.  One  after  another  of  Mr.  Shaler's  in- 
timate friends,  mostly  in  the  Confederate  army,  were  slain  by 
the  sword  or  perished  in  prisons,  so  that  while  still  a  young  man 
there  were  few  left,  outside  his  immediate  family,  who  ever 
called  him  by  his  given  name. 

While  waiting  for  the  reestablishment  of  his  health  Mr.  Shaler 


224     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

carried  on  his  studies  as  far  as  he  was  able;  but  becoming  im- 
patient of  the  inactivity  of  indoor  life,  he  sought  to  occupy 
himself  in  the  country  by  clearing  a  large  tract  of  land  of  its 
timber.  In  order  to  get  it  into  shape  for  the  market  he  set  up  a 
saw-mill,  but  he  soon  abandoned  the  enterprise  as  too  costly 
in  time  and  money.  In  regard  to  this  same  tract  of  land  his 
father  writes  some  years  after:  "The  Benton  farm  is  doing 
well.  You  would  hardly  know  the  place  where  you  acquired 
your  saw-mill  experience ;  the  bottom  is  cleared  and  in  grass. 
I  have  about  two  hundred  acres  of  good  grazing  —  about  one 
hundred  sheep  and  a  fine  lot  of  early  grade  Cotswold  lambs 
feeding  upon  it." 

Then,  further  along,  he  became  collector  of  internal  revenue. 
This  work  brought  him  into  contact  with  all  sorts  of  queer 
people,  and,  in  a  superficial  way,  made  him  acquainted  with 
the  material  condition  of  the  state,  a  knowledge  which  proved 
of  advantage  when  he  became  director  of  the  Kentucky  Geolo- 
gical Survey.  The  work  of  "  collector "  at  this  time  was  hardly 
less  hazardous  than  military  service,  for  in  out-of-the-way 
places  the  civil  law  was  none  too  well  respected,  and  the  bearer 
of  gold  was  apt  to  be  an  object  of  altogether  too  vigilant  atten- 
tion. The  only  advantage  of  this  service  over  the  field  was 
his  ability  to  regulate  his  movements  with  reference  to  his 
health;  otherwise  the  journeys  were  laborious,  long  horse- 
back rides,  early  departures  and  late  returns.  Under  this  disci- 
pline, whether  or  no,  like  Stevenson,  he  felt  the  need  "to  come 
down  off  this  feather  bed  of  civilization,  to  put  his  feet  upon 
the  floor  of  the  globe  strewn  with  cutting  flints,"  he  got  the 
experience. 

Although  it  had  for  some  time  been  manifest  that,  owing  to 
its  malarial  influence,  the  climate  of  Kentucky,  so  far  from  being 
health-giving,  was  in  fact  a  serious  menace,  Mr.  Shaler  did  not 
revisit  New  England  until  the  summer  of  '64.  The  following 
letter  was  written  immediately  upon  his  return :  — 


FIRST  UNIVERSITY  APPOINTMENT          225 

Parker  House,  BOSTON,  June  28,  '64. 

...  I  have  been  engaged  during  the  day  in  looking  up  acquaintances 
and  endeavoring  to  find  some  suitable  place  of  abode  for  you  and  the  little 
one.  I  met  Professor  Agassiz  this  afternoon  and  received  from  him  a  somewhat 
cordial  greeting.  The  old  fellow  is  in  a  great  rage  against  all  students,  and 
is  worn  with  the  trouble  they  have  lately  given  him.  I  am  inclined  to  think 
that  there  has  been  much  wrong  done  him  in  the  way  of  petty  spite  work 
by  the  rebels  of  the  M.  C.  Z.  [Museum].  The  students  have  failed  to  show 
him  the  consideration  his  age  and  preeminent  services  entitle  him  to  receive, 
and  have  done  much  to  embitter  his  declining  years.  I  am  satisfied  that 
reasonable  treatment  from  them  would  have  secured  an  amicable  adjust- 
ment. .  .  . 

I  have  been  out  to,  the  M.'s:  received  a  cordial  welcome,  which  in  this 
land  of  cool  greetings  was  very  agreeable.  They  were  packed  ready  to 
move.  .  .  . 

It  is  going  to  be  very  difficult  to  get  such  accommodations  as  we  want 
on  the  seashore.  Everything,  they  tell  me,  is  full  —  four  new  paste-board 
hotels  have  been  built  this  year  at  Hingham,  a  place  which  fashion  has 
lately  invaded.  Prices  are  high,  but  not  greatly  above  what  I  expected,  still 
it  will  make  no  great  difference,  for  when  our  money  gives  out  we  will  go 
home :  the  higher  the  price  the  shorter  the  time  we  will  have  to  stay. 

The  weather  is  delightfully  cool  and  bracing,  and  old  Boston  looks  mag- 
nificent. It  is  a  great  gratification  to  see  a  clean  town  once  more  after 
having  lived  in  Western  mud  and  dust  for  two  years.  .  .  . 

In  1864  Mr.  Shaler  was  appointed  assistant  in  paleontology 
in  the  Museum  of  Comparative  Zoology.  In  the  following  year 
he  took  charge  of  the  regular  instruction  in  zoology  and  geology, 
given  in  the  Lawrence  Scientific  School.  This  work,  owing  to 
the  continued  indisposition  of  the  Lawrence  professor,  remained 
in  his  hands  until  1872.  As  in  the  past  so  in  the  future  much 
of  his  time  was  spent  within  the  walls  of  what  was  commonly 
known  as  the  Agassiz  Museum ;  therefore  to  pause  here  even  at 
the  expense  of  anticipating  dates  seems  worth  while.  In  this 
place  he  worked  almost  daily,  often  lingering  late  in  the  after- 
noon, that  is,  until  daylight  failed,  —  in  the  waning  hours  occa- 
sionally glancing  out  of  the  window  in  expectation  of  the  little 
child  and  her  mother  who  came  regularly  to  entice  him  home. 
During  these  early  years  the  life  of  the  Museum  was  exceedingly 


226     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

active;  the  work  of  organizing,  and  collecting  and  classifying 
specimens,  as  well  as  teaching,  under  Agassiz's  inspiring  influ- 
ence, awakened  the  energies  and  full  powers  of  his  pupils,  — 
for,  whether  they  were  regular  assistants  or  not,  they  considered 
themselves  such.  I  find  among  Mr.  Shaler's  papers  the  follow- 
ing "  table  of  labor  for  the  half-year  ending  Jan.  1,  1866" :  - 

July  15. 

1.  Essay  on  the  intellectual  relation  of  the  four  types  of  animals. 

Sept.  1. 

2.  On  the  formation  of  continents. 

Optional. 

3.  On  the  relation  of  philosophical  systems  to  scientific  methods. 

Nov.  1. 

4.  On  the  changes  of  coast  line  in  New  England. 

Dec.  31. 

5.  On  the  method  of  preserving  recent  specimens  of  natural  history. 

6.  Museum  Catalogue. 

Lectures. 

Oct.  15. 

1.  Either  a  course  on  geology  or  a  course  on  paleontology  for  students, 

24  lectures. 

2.  Five  University  Lectures  on  the  growth  of  continents. 

3.  Three  University  Lectures  on  the  silting  up  of  harbors. 
Preparation. 

Compilation  for  work  on  formation  of  continents. 
Compilation  for  index  universal  of  memoirs. 

The  work  of  organizing  and  arranging  the  Museum  was  ar- 
duous and  fatiguing.  In  the  autumn  of  '66  Mr.  Shaler  became 
convinced  that  he  needed  an  entire  change  of  climate,  and, 
further  compelled  by  the  desire  to  visit  foreign  museums  and 
scenes  of  geological  interest,  he  set  sail  for  Europe.  Among  the 
letters  of  introduction  from  Agassiz,  he  carried  with  him  the 
following,  which,  with  another  letter  from  the  same  hand,  will 
show  something  of  his  situation. 

CAMBRIDGE,  4th  Nov.,  1866. 

Dear  Monsieur  Barrande :  .  .  .  Confident  in  your  benevolence,  I  take 
the  liberty  of  presenting  to  you  one  of  my  pupils,  who  has  devoted  himself 
with  much  success  to  the  study  of  geology.  Mr.  Shaler  is  the  one  of  my  Ameri- 


MR.   SHALER   IN   1865 


A  LETTER  FROM  AGASSIZ  227 

can  students  whom  I  love  best.  He  goes  to  Europe  for  the  purpose  of  study- 
ing the  most  important  geological  localities,  for  learning  the  recent  progress 
of  science,  and  also  to  visit  the  principal  museums  and  collections,  particu- 
larly fossils.  I  pray  you  give  him  your  good  counsel  to  aid  him  in  the  ac- 
complishment of  his  object.  Believe  me  always  your  very  devoted  friend, 

Louis  AGASSIZ. 

From  the  same  to  Mr.  Shaler:  — 

NAHANT,  August  6th,  1867. 

My  dear  Sir:  ...  I  have  been  seeking  for  two  months,  in  order  to  answer 
your  letter  to  me,  your  direction,  which  I  could  get  from  no  one,  never  having 
been  informed  that  you  made  Montreux  your  headquarters.  Well,  you 
could  not  have  chosen  a  lovelier  spot. 

I  was  delighted  to  hear  from  you  such  good  news  of  your  health  and  scien- 
tific pursuits.  It  is  my  belief  that  you  cannot  do  better  than  to  go  on  with 
your  present  course,  strengthening  your  health  and  extending  your  know- 
ledge of  classical  geological  grounds.  As  to  your  return  to  Cambridge, 
let  it  not  interfere  with  those  primary  considerations.  Nothing  shall  be 
done  here  that  may  interfere  with  your  projects.  And  in  this  connection 
I  would  say  that  there  are  doubts  entertained  concerning  Mr.  Whitney's 
return  to  the  East  and  that  I  would  therefore  recommend  you  to  make 
yourself  the  more  earnestly  familiar  with  practical  geology:  and  if  you  have 
any  inclination  that  way  and  time  to  do  it,  also  with  mining  geology.  I 
was  particularly  glad  to  hear  of  the  extensive  collections  you  have  been 
making,  and  also  of  your  visiting  Alpine  localities.  There  is  not  an  American 
geologist  who  has  the  slightest  idea  of  mountain-structure  on  a  grand  scale, 
unless  it  be  Whitney;  certainly  neither  Hall,  nor  Lesley,  nor  Newberry, 
nor  Dana  know  anything  about  it  practically.  All  their  views  are  purely 
theoretical  and  it  is  the  more  advantageous  for  you  to  make  the  most  of 
your  opportunities.  Do  not  neglect  also  the  glaciers  and  glacial  traces. 
As  to  the  collections  you  want  to  send  home,  request  Mr.  Francillon  to  make 
them  over  to  some  Commissionnaire  and  have  them  forwarded  by  sailing 
vessel.  .  .  .  With  kindest  remembrance  to  Mrs.  Shaler,  —  Yours  very  truly, 

L.  AGASSIZ. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

WALKS   AND   TALKS   ABROAD 

1866-1868 

MR.  SHALER  set  sail  for  Europe  in  the  fall  of  1866.  His  stay 
in  England  was  short,  for  already  the  autumn  was  far  advanced 
and  his  object  was  to  find  a  climate  that  offered  the  greatest 
opportunities  for  outdoor  life.  These  conditions,  he  was  led  to 
believe,  were  to  be  had  in  Switzerland  and  thither  he  bent  his 
steps.  From  the  moment  he  crossed  the  French  border  heavy 
clouds  blotted  out  the  view  of  the  mountains,  so  that  when  he 
reached  Montreux,  where  he  had  for  some  time  been  expected 
at  his  sister-in-law's  villa,  close  to  the  terraced  banks  of  Lake 
Geneva,  even  if  the  state  of  the  atmosphere  had  permitted  it 
was  too  late  in  the  evening  to  see  anything  of  the  hidden  glory 
of  that  famous  region.  Nevertheless  he  went  to  bed  with  the 
uplifted  sense  of  one  girt  about  by  grand  scenery.  His  most 
vivid  imaginings  were  more  than  realized  the  next  morning 
when  he  opened  his  eyes  and  beheld  from  his  bedroom  window, 
whose  curtains  had  purposely  been  left  undrawn,  the  Dent  du 
Midi's  snow-capped  heights  radiant  with  the  rose-light  of  the 
dawn.  This  was  his  first  unclouded  view  of  the  Alps  and  was  a 
vision  of  beauty  which  he  never  forgot. 

It  was  not  long  before  he  began  the  study  of  mountain-struct- 
ure and  the  movements  of  the  ice-streams  of  the  Alps.  Already 
he  had  been  imbued  by  Agassiz  with  intense  interest  in  all  that 
related  to  glaciers ;  he  was  also  familiar  with  Elie  de  Beaumont's 
"  Systeme  des  Montagnes,"  which  had  been  one  of  the  most  diffi- 
cult parts  of  his  examination  for  his  degree,  as  appears  in  the 
Autobiography,  and  with  James  D.  Forbes's  and  Helmholtz's 
theories  concerning  the  characteristics  of  ice.  The  fact  which 


IN  THE  ALPS  229 

Tyndall  emphasized,  that  ice  during  a  thaw  disintegrates  so  as 
to  form  rude  prisms  whose  axes  are  at  right  angles  to  the  planes 
of  freezing,  he  had  observed  in  the  ice  of  the  Ohio  River.  He 
explored  the  great  Aletsch  glacier,  that  of  the  Grindelwald,  the 
Mer  de  Glace,  and  the  system  of  glaciers  between  Monte  Rosa 
and  Mont  Cervin.  He  developed  a  love  for  long  tramps,  but 
never  cared  to  waste  time  and  energy  in  trying  to  scale  high 
peaks;  from  the  lower  heights  he  was  content  to  attack  the 
problem  of  mountain-building.  At  first  he  made  his  ascents 
under  professional  leadership,  acquiring  a  great  liking  for 
the  strong-limbed  and  brave-hearted  Swiss  guides.  After  a 
while,  however,  wishing  to  try  his  own  powers,  he  liberated  him- 
self from  their  companionship  and  often  walked  alone.  His 
senses  trained  to  an  exquisite  perception  of  the  glories  of  earth 
and  air,  the  scent  of  pine  and  song  of  birds,  every  step  was  a 
delight.  These  solitary  tramps,  like  sleep,  "  knit  up  the  ravelled 
sleeve  of  care." 

While  in  Switzerland  he  became  acquainted  with  Messieurs 
Renivier,  Pictet,  and  other  geologists  who  were  helpful  in  mak- 
ing known  the  best  localities  for  collecting  fossils.  During  the 
winter  it  was  also  his  good  fortune  to  meet  at  Montreux  an 
accomplished  young  English  geologist,  Edward  Tawney,  with 
whom  he  travelled  extensively.  Tawney  was  a  cripple,  but  had 
in  his  veins  the  blood  of  the  heroic  Lawrences,  John  and  Henry, 
who  saved  India  to  England  in  the  great  mutiny.  Yet,  in  spite 
of  his  pluck,  he  was  in  a  measure  dependent  for  assistance  upon 
his  companion,  and  the  fact  that  he  needed  looking  after  awak- 
ened, as  such  an  appeal  always  did,  Mr.  Shaler's  utmost  vigi- 
lance and  care.  Their  journeys  together  were  delightful  as 
well  as  mutually  profitable,  and  a  great  friendship  sprang  up 
between  them,  as  well  as  a  certain  interchangeable  guardian- 
ship ;  as,  for  instance,  when  Mr.  Shaler's  quick  spirit  would  get 
him  into  trouble  with  stupid  and  arrogant  officials  —  when  the 
oft-repeated  Sacrebleu,  Cent  Milk  Diables,  Nom  de  Dieu,  made 
the  air  hiss;  then  Tawney  would  exhaust  his  slender  amount 


230     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

of  wind  power  by  shrieking  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  "  Don't  hit 
him,  Shaler,  don't  hit  him;  kick  him  if  you  must."  Tawney's 
longer  experience  on  the  Continent  had  taught  him  that  instead 
of  the  serious  punishment  inflicted  for  a  blow  with  the  fist  only 
a  small  fine  was  exacted  for  a  kick. 

On  one  occasion  of  a  conflict  with  such  officials,  however,  in 
an  out-of-the-way  part  of  France,  neither  threats  nor  bland- 
ishments were  of  avail.  Suspicion  happening  to  fall  upon  the 
contents  of  their  map-cases,  the  travellers  were  accused  of 
being  German  spies  and  of  having  rifled  the  secrets  of  French 
fortifications.  Geographical  and  geological  information  was 
showered  upon  the  gendarme  without  the  least  effect,  and  the 
two  were  marched  off  to  jail.  Here  they  were  strictly  guarded 
for  some  hours,  until  at  length  the  absurdity  of  the  situation 
induced  such  peals  of  laughter  from  them  that  the  policeman 
himself  became  moved  to  mirth.  He  had  wit  enough  to  reflect 
that  criminals  were  not  usually  hilarious,  and  now  was  per- 
suaded to  send  for  the  chief  man  of  the  place.  This  functionary 
appeared,  —  a  thick-headed,  pursy  magistrate,  who  solemnly 
turned  the  map-cases  upside  down  and  inside  out,  examined 
bags  of  specimens  with  the  awe  inspired  by  dynamite,  then  sat 
for  a  long  time  meditating  upon  the  complicated  plot.  Event- 
ually, under  the  influence  of  a  good  cigar  and  a  potent  drink 
from  the  combined  brandy-flasks,  he  solved  the  problem  to  his 
satisfaction  and  permitted  the  strangers,  late  in  the  evening, 
to  become  the  guests  of  the  village  inn  instead  of  guests  of  the 
state. 

Map-cases  in  those  days  were  a  source  of  frequent  bother, 
for  in  the  eyes  of  the  custom-house  officer  every  one  with  an 
unusual  package  was  regarded  as  a  Prussian  spy,  devoting  his 
life  to  mastering  the  art  of  French  defensive  warfare.  The 
boxes  of  geological  specimens  that  were  forwarded  from  time 
to  time  also  fell  under  the  ban  of  suspicion  and  caused  trouble. 
And  the  trouble  was  not  always  confined  to  custom-house 
officers.  I  have  cause  to  remember  some  of  the  specimens  he 


EDWARD  TAWNEY  231 

collected  at  a  later  time  in  Switzerland.  At  the  last  moment 
before  setting  out  for  Paris  to  visit  the  exposition  of  1867,  after 
all  but  one  of  the  trunks  had  been  closed,  Mr.  Shaler  innocently 
asked  if  he  might  put  in  a  few  more  things,  and  while  my  back 
was  turned  accomplished  the  feat.  When  the  trunk  was  opened 
at  the  end  of  the  journey  a  lace  hat  and  its  pink  roses,  a  holiday 
gown,  and  sundry  other  fine  things  got  together  for  the  visit, 
were  found  to  be  ground  to  powder  by  the  weight  and  shifting 
motion  of  at  least  half  a  peck  of  stones.  Mr.  Shaler,  however, 
made  ample  amends  for  the  damage,  and  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life  (he  was  afraid  of  store  clerks)  voluntarily  entered  a  dry- 
goods  shop  and  purchased  a  beautiful  robe  which  he  happened 
to  see  in  the  window.  In  compliment  to  him  the  dress  was  worn 
for  many  years  until  it  seemed  too  gay,  and  then  was  handed 
down  as  a  much-prized  heirloom  to  his  daughter. 

Threats  of  danger,  however,  were  not  always  confined  to 
France.  Once,  in  Tawney's  own  country,  while  the  two  were 
tramping  together  in  the  neighborhood  of  Manchester,  some 
roughs  welcomed  the  cripple  by  shouting  at  the  top  of  their 
voices,  "  'Eave  a  stone  at  him,  'eave  a  stone  at  him,  I  say ! "  and 
would  have  perpetrated  the  brutal  assault  had  not  Mr.  Shaler 
pitched  into  the  crowd  and  made  short  work  with  them.  His 
friend  took  the  hostile  demonstration  as  a  matter  of  course. 

Two  summers  and  a  good  part  of  one  winter  were  profitably 
spent  in  Switzerland,  different  localities  being  chosen  as  the 
base  of  explorations.  These  sojourns,  often  in  remote  places, 
away  from  the  beaten  track  of  the  diligent  tourist,  furnished 
agreeable  episodes  in  the  serious  work  of  the  geologist.  In  those 
old  days  every  canton,  almost  every  village,  had  its  distinctive 
customs  and  opinions,  but  with  the  coming  of  the  railways 
miscellaneous  habits  and  lukewarm  beliefs  have  long  since 
taken  their  place.  In  1866  there  was  apparently  no  such  thing 
as  the  "neutral  heart,"  hatred  and  doubtless  its  converse  love 
were  strongly  developed;  at  least  the  former  passion  was  ap- 
parent at  the  target  practice  of  the  citizen  soldiers  on  Sunday 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 


232     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

mornings  at  the  little  village  of  B.  On  these  occasions  Mr. 
Shaler  won  the  hearts  of  the  people  by  his  enthusiastic  applause, 
especially  when  the  ball  struck,  as  it  often  did,  the  heart  of  the 
French  Zouave  (a  stuffed  figure)  which  just  then  represented 
the  arch-enemy  across  the  border.  His  familiarity  with  Swit- 
zerland's heroic  struggles  against  over-confident  invaders  was 
always  the  road  to  a  friendly  understanding  between  him  and 
the  sturdy  country  folk,  whom  he  loved  to  compliment  on  their 
capacity  to  drive  back  at  any  time  new  foes  as  insolent  as  the 
old  ones. 

At  Le  Locle,  the  centre  of  the  watch  industry,  Mr.  Shaler  made 
the  acquaintance  of  an  excellent  geologist  with  whom  he  had 
some  pleasant  and  instructive  walks.  Monsieur  Jacquard  was  a 
member  of  a  watchmakers'  association,  also  a  maker  of  watches 
himself.  In  his  house  Mr.  Shaler  bought  a  lady's  watch  still 
warm,  so  to  speak,  from  the  friction  of  the  machine  which  en- 
graved it.  This  delicate  industry  carried  on  in  the  homes  of 
the  artisans,  uniting  the  domestic  and  the  economic  under 
such  simple  conditions,  was  to  him  a  far  more  satisfactory  sight 
than  the  well-equipped,  well-organized,  but  less  human  manu- 
factory at  Waltham,  Massachusetts.  Indeed,  every  enterprise 
in  which  the  family  life  was  harmoniously  blended,  was,  to 
his  mind,  the  best  solution  of  social  difficulties. 

It  was  at  this  same  town  that  he  had  the  chance  of  "assist- 
ing," in  the  French  sense  of  the  word,  at  a  unique  spectacle 
—  a  military  review  of  the  children  soldiers,  uniformed  and 
equipped  like  their  elder  fighting  brothers;  muskets  and  can- 
non, all  of  a  size  to  match  their  small  dimensions.  These  young 
heroes  at  first  showed  themselves  past  masters  of  drill,  execut- 
ing the  manoeuvres  with  exemplary  precision ;  but  after  the 
early  dinner  provided  by  the  good  mothers  of  the  town,  many 
a  young  warrior  who  had  stood  steadfast  in  the  morning 
wavered  in  his  alignment  and  stumbled  in  his  march,  while 
others  with  their  hands  significantly  clasped  over  the  seat  of 
pain  were  led  off  the  mimic  field  of  battle.  One  little  fellow  who 


A  FRENCH  COUNTRY  INN  233 

had  feasted,  if  not  wisely,  at  least  more  profusely  perhaps  than 
his  mates,  blubbered  outright  from  the  ache  that  too  many  cher- 
ries had  given  him,  and  was  glad  to  have  Mr.  Shaler  take  him 
in  his  arms  and  carry  him  to  the  near-by  hospital  tent.  The 
couple  of  francs  left  in  his  hand  gave  a  compensating  joy  to  his 
thrifty  little  Swiss  soul. 

At  Salins,  another  halting-place  which  lingers  pleasantly 
in  the  memory,  letters  of  introduction  from  Mr.  Jules  Marcou 
to  his  old  friends  were  the  means  of  giving  Mr.  Shaler  some 
pleasant  geological  and  social  experiences.  Captain  B.  espe- 
cially exerted  himself  to  make  known  the  local  points  of  inter- 
est. To  one  spot  in  particular  —  a  place  of  refreshment  —  he 
conducted  the  strangers  with  an  enthusiasm  that  geological 
sites  pure  and  simple  had  failed  to  awaken.  In  answer  to  an 
inquiry  whether  a  luncheon  had  better  be  carried  on  that  day's 
excursion,  his  countenance  suggested  a  good  time  coming  that 
allayed  all  doubts.  The  morning  spent  in  driving  and  walking 
through  a  fair  and  sunny  land  laid  the  foundation  for  keen  and 
appreciative  appetites;  therefore,  at  noon,  the  captain  was 
asked  to  fulfil  his  earlier  promise.  He  prodded  the  nag  and 
soon  there  loomed  in  the  distance  a  large  wooden  structure, 
bare  outside  and  apparently  empty  within ;  but  if  at  the  sight 
of  the  barren  prospect  the  American  countenances  fell,  the  face 
of  the  bold  forager  was  lit  with  reassuring  cheerfulness.  Soon 
the  appearance  of  a  comely  Frenchwoman  at  the  door  —  a  femi- 
nine Boniface  of  typical  looks  and  manner  —  brought  back 
the  abandoned  hope.  Evidently,  from  the  nature  of  their  greet- 
ing, she  and  the  captain  were  old  and  tried  friends.  Moreover, 
as  good  luck  would  have  it,  the  dejeuner  had  been  ordered  by 
special  messenger  the  day  before,  and  did  not,  as  was  usually 
the  case,  have  to  be  gathered  together  at  the  last  moment,  then 
wait  for  the  charcoal  to  be  bought,  and  the  fire  to  be  made  be- 
fore the  cooking  could  begin. 

The  announcement  that  the  meal  was  served  brought  Mr. 
Shaler  to  the  foot  of  a  staircase  narrow  and  steep  as  a  ladder, 


234  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

which  he  nimbly  mounted.  At  the  top  was  a  large  unplastered 
timber-roofed  hall  with  windows  opening  on  a  fine  fertile  coun- 
try. The  potage  a  la  printaniere,  the  capon  roasted  to  perfec- 
tion, the  green  peas  and  asparagus  fresh  and  succulent,  the 
newly  made  butter,  and  bread  that  had  been  baked  in  an  oven 
that  admitted  of  no  sogginess,  constituted  a  repast  that  proved 
the  captain  to  be  a  man  not  given  to  false  promises.  Excellent 
claret  added  to  the  feast,  and  finally  a  bottle  of  champagne, 
native  to  the  region,  exhilarated  the  spirits.  This  last  was  of  so 
fine  a  quality  that  later,  thanks  to  Mr.  Marcou,  a  liberal  supply 
was  brought  to  America.  Mr.  Shaler  got  his  share,  and  when  it 
came  upon  the  table  it  always  reminded  him  of  that  ideal  day 
and  its  breakfast,  of  Captain  B.'s  jolly  company,  and  not  the 
least  of  the  beautiful  Franche-Comte*.  He  loved  to  revive  old 
memories  and  a  pleasant  experience  was  not  to  be  dismissed 
with  one  telling,  so  that  guests  who  drank  the  champagne  often 
listened  to  the  twice-told  tale.  If  old  wine  is  good  they  were 
convinced  that,  as  Mr.  Shaler  told  it,  an  old  story  is  better. 

There  was  one  walk  to  which  he  often  reverted,  and  this  was 
through  a  part  of  the  Rhone  valley  leading  to  Zermatt.  The 
moon  was  still  in  the  heavens  when  the  early  morning  start  was 
made.  There  were  no  impedimenta  to  drag  the  steps,  only 
alpenstocks  and  a  knapsack  holding  the  day's  provisions. 
Exhilarated  by  the  pure  air,  for  a  while  the  body  was  indiffer- 
ent to  time  and  space  and  the  feet  carelessly  trod  the  way  to  the 
great  and  mystic  Matterhorn.  But  the  east  gradually  bright- 
ened and  the  sun  sent  its  hot  rays  down  through  the  thick 
branches  across  the  road  that  till  then  had  been  dark  and  cool. 
And  at  last,  as  the  day  progressed,  the  usual  feud  between 
body  and  soul,  which  for  a  time  had  been  suspended,  set  in, 
and  hunger  and  fatigue  became  the  imperious  facts  in  all 
nature.  Sitting  by  the  roadside,  beneath  the  shade  of  a  great 
tree,  Mr.  Shaler  emptied  the  knapsack  of  its  contents  —  black 
bread,  tough  cheese,  and  sour  wine.  "  Oh,"  he  exclaimed,  in  the 
impatient  accent  that  an  empty  stomach  gives,  "  I  would  swap 


A  HAPPY  VALLEY  235 

the  Alps  for  a  gallon  of  buttermilk  and  a  pone  of  Margaret's 
corn  bread.  Out  upon  Brillat-Savarin,  even  though  born  at 
Belley!  If  the  wine  were  better  I  would  drink  to  the  whole 
race  of  darkey  cooks,  now  and  forever."  Humiliated  by  this 
animal  outbreak,  the  travellers  were  inclined  to  beg  the  great 
monarch  in  the  distance  to  forgive  the  lese  majeste,  and  finally, 
with  the  sense  that  carnal  thoughts,  though  bound  up  with  the 
remembrance  of  home,  had  taken  the  bloom  off  the  rose,  the 
line  of  march  was  resumed  in  a  happy  though  less  exalted 
state  of  mind. 

In  his  wanderings  through  the  Jura  a  discovery  was  made 
which  gave  Mr.  Shaler  almost  as  much  pleasure  as  some  of  the 
facts  that  he  gained  of  his  science.  Without  reference  to  other 
considerations  he  chose  the  village  of  X.  as  a  convenient  point 
of  departure  for  geological  excursions,  notwithstanding  the 
railway  had  left  the  village  rather  wide  of  the  travellers'  mark. 
But  a  good  hotel,  reduced  to  the  pension  stage  of  existence, 
offered  comfortable  entertainment.  Moreover,  there  was  no 
crowd,  no  noise,  no  confusion ;  bees  hummed  about  the  flowers, 
the  cattle  grazed  peacefully  on  the  mountain-slopes,  and  the 
church  clock  sounded  the  hours  with  silvery  tongue,  though  it 
must  be  confessed  it  grew  hoarse  under  the  stress  of  announcing 
the  twenty-fourth  hour.  It  was  a  happy  valley,  overflowing 
with  milk  and  honey.  After  a  week  spent  at  this  restful  spot, 
forsaking  the  diligence,  we  entered  the  train  that  was  to  trans- 
port us  to  other  regions.  In  the  same  compartment  there 
chanced  to  be  a  young  English  couple  who,  seeing  Mr.  Shaler 
from  time  to  time  consult  his  map,  ventured  to  question  him 
about  the  country.  They  seemed  to  be  wandering  about  in  a 
maze  without  ultimate  point  of  destination ;  but  the  fact,  which 
with  flaunting  nonchalance  they  endeavored  to  conceal,  that 
they  were  bride  and  bridegroom,  enlightened  him  as  to  their  ro- 
mantic needs.  So  immediately  with  his  irresistible  enthusiasm 
he  described  the  charms  of  the  deserted  village  of  X.,  although 
he  had  to  admit  it  was  a  trifle  stagnant;  still  at  this  happy 


236     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

epoch  in  the  young  people's  lives  presumably  the  stream  of 
time  itself  might  stop.  When  the  tale  was  told  it  was  evident 
that  in  their  hearts  the  young  couple  were  already  booked  for 
X.  Some  months  after,  one  day  while  walking  down  the  Rue 
de  Rivoli  in  Paris,  Mr.  Shaler  was  accosted  by  two  strangers, 
who  explained  that  they  had  instantly  recognized  him  as  their 
fellow  traveller.  "We  had  a  lovely  time  at  X.,"  said  the  young 
wife,  "and  we  sent  some  friends  and  they  sent  their  friends; 
and  so,  on  the  strength  of  your  recommendation,  the  little  vil- 
lage has  become  a  regular  resort  for  brides  and  bridegrooms." 
And  she  added  naively,  "  I  suppose  you  did  n't  know  when  we 
met  you  that  we  were  on  our  wedding  journey." 

From  Switzerland  to  Italy  was  the  natural  transition.  Mr. 
Shaler  first  saw  Rome  when  the  Pope  was  still  unbereft  of  his 
temporal  power  —  the  old,  dirty,  picturesque  Rome,  shrunken 
within  its  ancient  walls.  Rome  was  never  again  the  same  home 
of  the  spirit  to  him;  the  ancient  city  smothered  in  the  new, 
transformed  and  cheaply  modernized,  the  street-cars  bumping 
and  screeching  along  the  ways  which  to  his  youthful  imagina- 
tion had,  so, to  speak,  been  profanely  sacred,  grew  to  be  posi- 
tively distasteful.  He  liked,  however,  to  tramp  beyond  the  city 
walls  out  on  the  Campagna,  where  he  felt  as  light  and  free,  as 
swift-footed,  as  though  the  wings  of  Mercury  speeded  his  way. 
He  was  also  at  that  time  and  during  later  visits  to  Italy  su- 
premely happy  in  his  excursions  to  the  small  neighboring  towns, 
where,  in  addition  to  Nature's  gentle  doings,  he  was  sure  to 
find  a  beautiful  church,  a  famous  picture,  or  a  rare  specimen 
of  the  silversmith's  art, — beauties  which  he  could  enjoy  at  his 
leisure  without  the  din  of  comment  of  hurried  travellers.  At  the 
simple  inn,  too,  he  rarely  failed  of  good  and  racy  company  to 
share  with  him  his  dinner  —  a  jolly  priest,  or  some  sensitive 
crowd-detesting  wanderer  like  himself.  Ever  ready  to  be  a 
brother  to  all  worthy  souls,  frank,  guileless,  and  fearless,  he 
got  much  of  generous  giving,  in  the  way  of  good  fellowship,  from 
these  passing  comrades. 


ITALY  AND  PARIS  237 

At  Vicenza  the  door  of  the  hotel  stood  wide  open  and  when 
we  entered  its  halls  were  deserted.  After  waiting  a  while  in 
its  spacious  vacancy,  an  old  servant  doing  his  leisurely  rounds, 
surprised  at  the  sight  of  visitors,  disappeared  somewhere  into 
the  echoing  distance,  and  later  emerged  with  the  sorrowful- 
eyed  master.  His  welcome  of  the  guests  was  more  like  that  of 
a  sad  and  impoverished  host  than  of  a  money-making  keeper 
of  a  tavern.  While  waiting  for  the  precarious  getting  together 
of  dinner,  he  offered  to  show  the  attractions  of  the  town.  Mr. 
Shaler's  sensitive  appreciation  of  Palladio's  work  —  the  glory 
of  Vicenza  —  warmed  the  Italian's  poor  old  heart  and  in  the 
waning  sunlight  he  showed  one  after  another  of  that  architect's 
beautiful  palaces.  After  this  he  led  the  way  to  the  outskirts  of 
the  town,  that  a  particular  view  might  be  had,  which,  for  beauty, 
sadness,  and  suggestiveness  of  fading  glory,  Mr.  Shaler  often 
spoke  of  as  one  of  the  most  impressive  he  remembered  ever  to 
have  seen. 

At  Naples  of  course  Vesuvius  was  the  great  attraction,  and 
almost  at  the  risk  of  his  life  he  looked  down  into  the  crater, 
sending  forth  at  the  time  lava,  stones,  and  ashes.  So  intensely 
interested  was  he  in  what  was  going  on  that  it  required  all  the 
strength  of  his  guide  to  drag  him  away  at  a  critical  moment 
when  the  danger  obvious  to  the  guide  was  unsuspected  by  the 
enthusiastic  student.  But  his  true  volcanic  spree  was  in  the 
classic  Auvergne  region  of  France,  where,  by  driving,  walking, 
and  almost  climbing  on  his  knees,  like  the  devout  pilgrims,  to 
the  Puy  du  Dome  and  Puy  de  Parion,  he  studied  the  phenomena 
of  extinct  volcanoes  in  all  their  details. 

In  the  late  winter  of  1867  Mr.  Shaler  returned  to  Paris.  He 
was  never  over  smitten  with  the  French  Capital.  Indeed  he 
liked  Frenchmen  none  too  well,  and  least  of  all  their  self- 
constituted  ruler  Napoleon  III,  who  at  that  time  was  at  the 
height  of  his  meretricious  glory.  He  revolted  at  the  forced  uni- 
formity of  the  city  that  Baron  Haussmann  had  brought  about ; 
such  imposed  regularity  was  perhaps  admissible  in  an  American 


238     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

town,  planned  and  executed  in  a  day,  but  deliberately  to  wipe 
out  the  impress  of  the  slow  evolution  of  centuries  was  to  his 
sequence-tracing  mind  an  unpardonable  sin.  He  gained,  how- 
ever, from  the  picture-galleries,  the  School  of  Mines,  and  the 
natural  history  collections  much  pleasure  and  profit.  At  the 
Jardin  des  Plantes  he  attended  the  lectures  given  by  some  of 
the  most  distinguished  scientific  men  of  the  day.  He  of  ten  spoke 
of  the  small  and  inferior  quality  of  the  audiences,  and  of  the 
perfunctory  manner  of  some  of  the  lecturers.  His  attention 
was  not  infrequently  diverted  by  an  old  soldier  who  came  at 
regular  intervals  apparently  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  have 
his  epileptic  fit  in  a  safe  place.  Another  old  man,  whose  blear 
eyes  denoted  the  previous  night's  debauch,  dropped  in  several 
times  a  week  to  refresh  himself  with  a  nap ;  and  now  and  then 
a  nurse-maid  brought  her  baby  in  to  profit  by  the  warmth  found 
beneath  the  academic  roof.  As  for  the  alert  and  intelligent 
listeners  that  lecturers  of  equal  eminence  are  wont  to  attract 
in  America,  they  were  not  manifest. 

In  Germany  Mr.  Shaler  was  more  at  home.  His  knowledge 
of  the  language  and  literature  of  the  country  brought  him  into 
sympathetic  relation  with  the  people,  and  instead  of  search- 
ing for  national  differences,  as  in  France,  he  was  intent  upon 
detecting  points  of  resemblance  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  and 
Teutonic  character.  But  when  it  was  a  question  of  manual 
dexterity  so  conspicuous  in  his  own  country,  he  was  driven  to 
the  verge  of  despair.  At  Dresden  he  endeavored  to  have  con- 
structed the  model  of  an  invention  for  the  ventilation  of  hos- 
pitals. The  clumsy  affair,  when  finished,  was  sent  to  Dr.  Evans 
(the  American  dentist),  who  hoped  to  be  able  to  introduce  it  in 
the  hospitals  of  Paris.  The  effort  finally  languished,  and  Mr. 
Shaler  himself  in  the  course  of  time  forgot  all  about  it. 

While  at  the  Saxon  Capital  he  was  induced  to  enter  a  water- 
cure  establishment,  where  he  was  led  to  believe  he  would  get 
rid  of  his  old  enemy,  malaria.  The  heroic  treatment  peculiar 
to  the  place  was  supervised  by  an  able  though  uneducated 


WATER  CURE  AT  DRESDEN  239 

physician,  the  Herr  Naturheilkundigenrath,  a  follower  of  the 
celebrated  Priessnitz  of  Grafenberg,  who  as  a  penalty  for  prac- 
tising without  a  diploma  was  obliged  to  spend  a  couple  of 
months  each  year  in  prison.  Owing,  however,  to  his  probity  of 
character  and  real  success  as  a  practitioner,  he  was  allowed  to 
take  his  punishment  in  instalments,  and  at  times  of  his  own 
choosing.  It  was  a  conviction  in  the  establishment  that  his 
exile  from  it  was  coincident  with  Frau  M.'s  outbursts  of  temper  ; 
when  these  attacks  threatened  to  last  longer  than  usual  it  was 
observed  that  the  doctor  would  coolly  collect  his  books  and 
other  effects,  and  with  placid  countenance  turn  his  back  upon 
the  scene  of  turmoil.  The  patients  sometimes  wished  they  might 
do  the  same,  for  when  the  kind-hearted,  but  quick-tempered 
and  garrulous  Hausfrau  once  allowed  her  tongue  full  swing, 
it  was  enough  to  drive  the  most  devoted  bather  and  follower 
of  the  "new  diet"  back  to  the  unclean  world  of  savory  dishes. 
Under  her  dispensation  the  "dry  days"  especially  were  the 
hardest  to  bear,  for  eating  (it  was  impossible  to  drink  it)  a  thick 
pea  soup,  with  salt  for  its  only  condiment,  and  stale  bread  for 
its  only  accompaniment,  without  water,  beer,  or  other  fluid  to 
quench  the  raging  thirst,  reduced  even  the  stalwart  Prussian 
officers  undergoing  treatment  to  a  nerveless  band  of  resentful 
invalids.  For  moral  support  during  these  desiccated  days, 
the  patient  had  to  depend  upon  the  theory  that  the  diet  which 
produced  the  discomfort  caused  the  viscous  mucous  coating  of 
the  inner  parts  of  the  body  to  be  absorbed  and  thus  to  purify 
the  system.  These  same  Prussian  officers  whose  haughtiness 
waned  only  on  Tauchen  Tagen  held  themselves  aloof  from 
their  dyspeptic  countrymen  as  well  as  from  the  Americans;  but, 
unable  to  keep  their  ears  closed  to  Mr.  Shaler's  entertaining 
talk  at  table,  they  learned  that  he  was  acquainted  with  the  art 
of  war  and  inferred  that  he  was  or  had  been  a  soldier.  When 
the  inference  had  ripened  into  a  conviction,  one  day  after  din- 
ner the  chief  of  the  party,  bowing  profoundly,  asked  if  he  was 
right  in  supposing  that  Herr  Shaler  had  worn  a  sword.  The 


240     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

affirmative  answer  led  to  good-natured  reproaches  that  he  had 
not  at  once  made  known  his  distinction.  The  bond  of  brother- 
hood was  immediately  established  and  there  followed  an 
effusive  recognition  by  all  the  other  dazzling  sons  of  Mars  of 
his  belonging  to  a  superior  order  of  being. 

Among  other  agreeable  acquaintances  made  at  this  primitive, 
homelike  sanitarium  was  that  of  a  Cuban,  who,  on  the  first  day 
of  his  arrival,  presented  himself  at  the  door  and  announced 
that  he  had  been  a  student  at  the  Lawrence  Scientific  School 
and  had  come  forthwith  to  welcome  with  open  arms  the  teacher 
from  Cambridge.  He  was  a  distinguished-looking  and  cultivated 
gentleman,  a  great  lover  of  music,  and  at  Vienna,  where  he 
finished  his  engineering  education,  he  had  the  entree  of  the 
most  exclusive  houses.  Since  he  lived  in  the  " Annex  "  which  we 
occupied,  we  saw  much  of  him,  and,  previously  bored  almost 
to  death,  we  now  had  Seiior  N.  for  our  guide,  philosopher,  and 
friend,  who  made  known  to  us  the  resources  of  Dresden,  the 
best  places  to  hear  music  and  the  plays  best  worth  seeing.  Going 
to  the  theatre  in  those  days  could  scarcely  be  called  a  dissipa- 
tion, since  the  performance  began  at  six  and  generally  ended 
before  ten ;  if,  however,  there  was  any  delay  the  patients  were 
sore  put  to  it  to  get  back  before  the  gates  of  the  establishment 
were  irrevocably  locked.  In  the  effort  to  reach  the  goal  Mr. 
Shaler  always  came  out  ahead  of  his  companions  and  until  the 
belated  sprinters  caught  up,  he  with  one  yarn  and  another  ca- 
joled the  custodian  to  postpone  the  final  turn  of  the  key.  Since 
one  of  the  party  was  not  a  patient  and  therefore  not  bound 
by  the  rules  of  the  house,  it  was  her  province  to  have  ready 
as  a  fit  ending  to  the  evening's  diversions  a  modest  repast,  and 
no  feast,  however  delicious,  was  ever  more  enjoyed  than  the 
few  delicacies  that  were  smuggled  in  as  an  offset  to  the  peculiar 
dietary  prescribed  by  the  Herr  Doctor.  Many  years  after  these 
light-hearted  escapades,  if  such  they  could  be  called,  Mr.  Shaler 
endeavored  to  look  up  Senor  N.  when  in  Cuba.  He  drove  to  his 
father's  once-flourishing  plantation  to  find  there  neglect  and 


CONCERTS  AT  DRESDEN  241 

ruin:  the  doors  of  the  spacious  old  homestead  swinging  loose 
on  their  hinges;  the  shutters  falling  from  the  windows.  In  the 
stress  of  war  the  family,  broken  in  fortune,  had  gone  back  to 
Spain.  His  former  comrade  was  dead. 

For  the  first  time  during  this  winter  Mr.  Shaler  had  the  op- 
portunity to  hear  fine  music  almost  daily;  he  had  a  sensitive 
ear  and  often  wished  he  had  time  to  practise  composition  in 
order  that  he  might  give  expression  to  the  themes  constantly 
floating  in  his  head.  The  concerts  given  in  the  Zoological  Gar- 
den were  a  source  of  delight  to  him.  He  liked  the  friendly 
German  fashion  of  sitting  at  a  table  and  between  the  pauses  of 
the  music  talking  over  a  cup  of  coffee  with  a  genial  friend. 
This  custom,  he  said,  took  the  strain  off  the  attention  and 
enabled  one  to  avoid  the  mental  dyspepsia  which  came  from 
swallowing  a  whole  concert  at  one  gulp.  Furthermore  he  was 
taught  to  associate  good  music  with  pecuniary  profit:  Frau 
M.  —  and  she  was  excellent  authority  —  insisted  that  the 
saving  at  home  in  light  and  fuel  and  sharing  the  cost  of  supper 
with  a  sociable  friend  made  the  afternoon  concert  an  actual 
economy.  He  enjoyed  watching  the  family  life  that  adjourned 
to  the  Music  Hall,  the  knitting  and  darning  that  went  on  among 
the  women,  and  the  ever-sympathetic  dog  who  barked  in  unison 
with  his  master's  clapping  of  hands  —  this  well-to-do,  self- 
respecting  master  who  wore  a  fur-lined  coat,  a  symbol  of  luxury, 
and  caressed  it  just  a  little  when  he  laid  it  on  the  back  of  his 
chair,  fur  side  out.  Indeed  he  was  enamored  in  those  happy 
days  of  the  simple,  kindly  German  folk. 

Among  the  scientific  men  of  Dresden  he  saw  something  of 
Guinitz,  and  attended  the  meeting  of  the  Isis  Society  for  the 
promotion  of  natural  history.  It  was  also  the  first  time  he 
had  ever  been  able  to  study  a  large  number  of  animals  in  close 
confinement.  The  well-managed  Zoological  Garden  inspired 
him  with  the  desire  to  see  something  similar  established  at 
Cambridge,  and  with  this  end  in  view  he  often  conferred  with 
the  director  concerning  the  running  of  such  an  institution. 


242     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

The  following  letter  written  to  his  parents  shows  how  well 
pleased  he  was  with  Dresden. 

DRESDEN,  SAXONY,  Dec.  31st,  1867. 

.  .  .  We  both  of  us  enter  the  New  Year  in  better  health  than  for  a  long 
time.  Personally  I  am,  despite  bad  weather,  in  better  shape  than  I  have 
ever  been  at  this  season  within  my  memory.  Stomach  nearly  right,  no 
rheumatism  or  any  other  bodily  ill.  I  should  like  to  remain  in  this  insti- 
tution for  a  month  to  come,  and  would  do  so  but  that  on  account  of  the 
continued  incapacity  of  the  director  [he  was  serving  his  time  in  jail]  to 
superintend  the  work  things  are  getting  somewhat  out  of  gear  with  the  ad- 
ministration. On  that  account  I  expect  to  be  again  in  motion  within  a  fort- 
night, first  to  Freiberg  and  then  to  Berlin.  There  we  will  remain  perhaps  a 
fortnight  before  taking  up  our  march  for  Paris  via  Brussels.  We  hope  to 
get  into  England  by  the  middle  of  March  or  first  of  April  and  to  be  on  the 
ocean  in  the  first  days  of  June.  ...  I  am  tolerably  confident  that  by  the 
continued  use  of  water  treatment  I  could  safely  make  a  lengthened  visit 
to  Kentucky.  However  it  would  be  very  much  more  agreeable  for  you  all 
to  come  to  us.  So  arrange  your  minds  for  the  trip.  I  wish  you  could  get 
the  courage  to  come  over  to  us  in  May  and  spend  the  summer  in  Europe. 
Epes  Dixwell  made  the  trip  last  summer,  had  a  good  time,  and  was  back  in 

season  for  his  school.  ...  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  of 's  improvement, 

but  sorry  to  hear  of  his  trying  to  study  law;  it  is, as  practised  with  us,  a 
loafing,  dishonorable  profession  in  the  majority  of  cases  and  success  of  any 
kind  demands  either  high  and  brilliant  talent  or  knavery  of  every  descrip- 
tion. I  would  rather  see  him  raising  garden  vegetables,  a  thousand  times 
more  profitable  and  honorable  a  calling.  I  am  sorry  to  see  by  the  American 
papers  that  business  is  in  bad  order  in  the  U.S.  We  may  have  some  years 
of  depression  as  a  reaction  arising  from  the  febrile  condition  during  the  war. 
I  am  afraid  the  radical  members  of  the  Republican  Party  have  killed  it 
beyond  hope  of  revival ;  no  party  can  carry  the  load  of  negro  suffrage  and 
white  disfranchisement.  The  second  stage  of  abolition  will,  I  fear,  soon 
begin.  The  first  was  the  abolition  of  slavery,  the  next  will  be  abolition  of 
the  negro,  unhappy  race! 

Winter  is  fairly  upon  us,  and,  from  the  sample  we  have  already  had,  pro- 
mises to  be  severe  for  this  climate.  For  about  a  week  the  thermometer  has 
been  nearly  to  zero  every  morning ;  although  about  14°  farther  north  than 
Cincinnati  we  have  here  less  severe  winters  than  you  often  have.  It  is  nearly 
always  cloudy,  and  as  the  sun  does  not  rise  until  about  half-past  eight 
and  sets  about  half-past  three  there  is  scant  daylight.  What  it  fails  in  day- 
light and  sunshine  it  takes  out  in  blowing,  a  half  gale  being  a  slow  pace 


THE  FREIBERG  MINING  SCHOOL  243 

with  the  Dresden  wind.  I  have  nevertheless  never  seen  a  more  agreeable 
place  to  live  in  than  this,  artificial  advantages  going  very  far  to  compensate 
for  natural  inconveniences.  I  heartily  wish  German  immigration  could  be 
made  in  bulk  and  this  old  town  brought  to  our  continent. 

At  Freiberg,  while  endeavoring  to  acquaint  himself  with  the 
methods  of  the  Mining  School,  Mr.  Shaler  descended  the  deeply 
driven  shaft  and  took  a  hand  at  the  manual  labor  of  the  work- 
men. In  that  rich  field  of  instruction  the  mineral  ores  were 
numerous,  silver,  nickel,  cobalt,  zinc,  and  arsenic.  Often,  when 
speaking  of  his  stay  at  Freiberg,  he  mentioned  the  fact  that 
many  of  the  miners  had  the  ends  of  their  fingers  eaten  off  as  a 
consequence  of  handling  arsenic,  and,  in  some  instances,  their 
noses  were  also  reduced  in  size ;  otherwise  they  were  a  healthy- 
looking  lot  of  men.  But  along  with  the  practical  side  of  the 
School  were  involved  other  associations  of  an  equally  interest- 
ing nature.  Freiberg  had  been  the  home  of  Abraham  Gottlob 
Werner,  the  famous  geologist  and  teacher,  whose  genius  had 
raised  the  Mining  School  from  a  local  seminary  to  a  great  acad- 
emy or  university.  The  remarkable  personal  charm  of  this 
man  as  handed  down  by  tradition,  his  enthusiasm  as  a  teacher, 
his  affection  for  his  pupils  and  his  vast  influence  over  them, 
could  not  fail  to  appeal  to  a  person  of  Mr.  Shaler's  generous 
nature ;  but  while  he  himself  likewise  had  the  capacity  to  invest 
dry  subjects  with  interest  and  awaken  zeal  on  the  part  of 
students,  his  success  in  teaching  was  unattended  by  dogmatic 
preachments,  such  as  are  associated  with  the  Freiberg  professor. 

While  at  Freiberg  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  Von  Cotta, 
the  well-known  geologist.  He  was  also  courteously  received  by 
other  professors.  At  one  house  where  he  was  invited  to  supper 
he  arrived  at  the  designated  hour,  but  finding  no  one  ready  to 
receive  him,  and  supposing  he  had  mistaken  the  day,  was  on  the 
eve  of  leaving,  when  the  Frau  Professorin  appeared  full  of 
apologies  for  her  belated  welcome.  "As  you  have  noticed/'  she 
said,  "the  weather  has  suddenly  turned  warm,  and  having  a  lot 
of  pork  in  the  house  I  was  examining  it  with  the  microscope 


244     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

before  salting  it  down.  I  have  just  finished  the  job."  The  pro- 
fessor himself  soon  added  his  welcome  to  hers,  and,  shortly  after, 
we  took  our  seats  at  the  table,  where,  among  other  viands, 
some  nice-looking  slices  of  cold  pork  were  partaken  of  with  a 
degree  of  relish  and  confidence  never  before  evoked  by  the 
flesh  of  the  swine.  It  was  soon  evident  that  the  good  hostess 
was  not  only  an  excellent  housewife  but  a  most  intelligent 
woman;  and,  later,  when  the  daughters,  who  had  served  at 
table,  played  and  sang,  Mr.  Shaler  was  charmed  with  the  happy 
combination  of  the  useful  and  the  aesthetic  that  this  simple 
German  household  represented.  Before  going,  however,  his 
gravity  was  somewhat  taxed  when  his  wife  was  asked  by  one 
of  the  ladies  if  she  had  ever  seen  a  sewing-machine,  and  although 
she  answered  in  the  affirmative,  the  strangers  were  conducted 
by  devious  ways  to  a  long  gallery  where  a  huge  apparatus,  ap- 
parently intended  to  be  run  by  horse-power,  stood  against  the 
wall.  It  had  been  constructed,  as  Frau  Professorin  proudly 
announced,  by  a  local  craftsman,  and  when  she  further  stated 
that  she  and  her  daughters  had  much  pleasure  in  using  it,  Mr. 
Shaler's  respect  for  her  physical  strength  was  only  equalled 
by  his  admiration  of  her  other  qualities.  Truly  the  machine 
was  a  wonder,  if  not  a  delight,  to  the  natives  of  a  land  where 
mechanical  contrivances  as  a  rule  demonstrate  the  theory  that 
efficiency  and  beauty  largely  consist  in  the  purgation  of  the 
superfluous. 

The  principal  German  cities  and  many  out-of-the-way  places 
were  journeyed  to  at  this  time  —  among  the  latter  the  visit  he 
paid  to  Boll  in  Wtirttemberg  lingered  vividly  in  his  mind.  It  was 
here  that  he  afterwards  affirmed  that  he  saw  the  progress  of 
miracles  from  the  simple  origin  to  the  inexplicable  mystery.  It 
was  not,  however,  the  search  for  the  supernatural  that  brought 
him  to  this  neighborhood ;  he  came  for  the  purpose  of  collecting 
fossils  in  a  region  famous  for  ichthyosauri  and  ammonites. 
On  the  day  of  arrival  at  the  hotel  to  which  he  was  directed, 
while  registering  his  name,  he  was  asked  his  profession.  "  Geo- 


A  FAITH-CURE  HOTEL  245 

log,"  was  the  reply,  and  not  long  after  he  was  introduced  to 
Father  Blumhardt,  the  presiding  genius  of  the  place.  At  the 
early  supper  he  was  placed  at  his  right  hand  and  otherwise 
treated  as  one  worthy  to  be  his  brother.  The  meal  was  pre- 
ceded by  a  chapter  from  the  Bible  read  by  a  young  acolyte, 
followed  by  prayer  and  song.  The  next  morning  at  breakfast  the 
same  procedure  was  gone  through  with,  all  of  which  took  a  good 
deal  of  time;  moreover  the  company  seemed  to  be  made  up 
chiefly  of  the  halt  and  the  blind.  At  the  early  dinner,  to  shorten 
the  time  spent  at  table  Mr.  Shaler  concluded  to  evade  the  for- 
midable preamble,  likewise  the  closing  exercises.  The  day  was 
slipping  away  and  as  yet  he  had  done  no  geologizing.  There- 
fore, although  it  was  Sunday,  he  determined  to  venture  forth  ; 
since,  however,  the  sentiment  of  the  place  seemed  to  be  strictly 
religious,  he  and  his  wife  secreted  his  hammer  and  bag  for 
specimens  and  started  off  in  the  direction  of  an  interesting 
locality  toward  which  his  thoughts  had  been  travelling  for 
many  months.  On  his  return  tired  and  heavily  laden  with  his 
treasures,  he  was  obliged  to  confront  his  fellow  pensionnaires 
assembled  on  the  front  verandah.  Curiosity  was  aroused  as  to 
the  nature  of  his  burden,  and  when  it  was  found  to  consist 
of  rocks  it  flashed  upon  the  inquirers  that  after  all  the  stranger 
was  a  geolog,  not  a  theolog  as  the  clerk's  mistake  had  led 
them  to  suppose.  The  consequence  of  the  discovery  was  a 
considerable  lowering  of  Mr.  Shaler's  dignity  in  the  eyes  of  the 
public ;  he  was  in  a  measure  obliterated,  shifted  down  to  near 
the  foot  of  the  table  instead  of  feasting  as  before  under  the  eyes 
of  the  master.  He  in  his  turn  likewise  received  light,  and  now 
for  the  first  time  saw  more  clearly  into  the  nature  of  his  sur- 
roundings: the  place  was  a  high  seat  of  the  faith  cure  and 
Father  Blumhardt  was  its  prophet.  On  Mr.  Shaler's  left  sat  a 
youth  whose  eyes  were  so  badly  injured  as  to  make  it  painful  to 
look  at  him.  He  was  praying  daily  for  a  miracle  to  be  performed. 
Near  by  was  a  woman  whose  hip  was  out  of  joint :  she  too  was 
waiting  to  develop  the  faith  that  makes  whole.  A  sprained 


246  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

ankle  which  would  doubtless  have  got  well  of  itself  in  a  day 
or  two,  and  which  recovered  as  quickly  under  the  influence  of 
prayer,  was  soon  magnified  until  it  was  a  broken  limb  which 
had  healed  under  the  miraculous  touch  of  the  inspired  Blum- 
hardt.  The  morning  he  was  to  depart,  Mr.  Shaler  strayed  into 
the  little  chapel  and  there  he  saw  in  front  of  the  chancel  Father 
Blumhardt,  a  transfigured  being,  standing  grandly  erect,  his 
face  lit  up  with  the  light  of  heaven;  and  the  prayer  that  fell 
from  his  lips  for  unfaltering  confidence  and  beseeching  power 
Mr.  Shaler  always  said  was  the  most  tremendous  he  had  ever 
heard.  Suddenly  the  priest  stopped  and  took  from  the  arms 
of  a  peasant  woman,  kneeling  in  front  of  him,  her  child,  lame 
and  sick  unto  death.  He  breathed  upon  it,  and  then  went  on 
with  his  invocation,  asking  as  only  a  believing  soul  could  ask, 
for  its  recovery.  At  last  he  bowed  his  head,  gave  the  child 
back  to  its  mother,  and  she  with  perfect  faith  set  it  upon  its 
feet;  and  hand  in  hand  the  two  walked  out  into  the  sunlight; 
the  miracle  (for  the  time  being  at  least)  had  been  performed. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

TEACHING   AND    EXPLORING 

1869-1873 

IN  the  interval  between  his  return  from  Europe  and  his  next 
journey  abroad,  Mr.  Shaler  devoted  himself  to  teaching,  to 
Museum  affairs,  to  investigations  for  the  United  States  Geo- 
logical Survey  and  the  Coast  Survey ;  work  which  ranged  from 
the  shores  of  Maine  to  Florida.  In  the  summer  of  1869  he  ac- 
companied Professor  Winlock,  Mr.  Charles  Peirce,  and  other 
astronomers  and  physicists  to  Shelbyville,  Kentucky,  to  ob- 
serve the  sun's  eclipse.  He  used  to  say  that  this  was  a  profitable 
event  for  at  least  a  part  of  the  community,  since  he  was  called 
upon  in  the  interest  of  his  friends  to  negotiate  for  a  good  many 
gallons  of  Bourbon  whiskey  to  be  shipped  East  as  a  sort  of 
trail  to  the  expedition. 

From  a  scientific  point  of  view  one  of  the  most  interesting 
episodes  of  this  time  was  the  unearthing  of  the  fossil  remains 
of  elephants  at  Big  Bone  Lick.  Mr.  Shaler  was  anxious  to  ac- 
quire these  specimens  for  the  Museum,  and  with  this  end  in 
view  he  tried  to  get  its  friends  to  subscribe  money  for  carry- 
ing on  the  excavations.  But  while  the  treasurer  earnestly 
desired  to  enrich  the  Museum  by  these  possessions,  money  was 
short.  Finally  the  owner  of  the  thirty  acres  of  bones  gave 
Mr.  Shaler  permission  to  dig  at  pleasure.  One  of  the  tusks 
unearthed  was  eleven  feet  long  on  the  curve.  It  may  be  men- 
tioned here  that  these  bones,  which  at  first  could  find  no  pur- 
chasers, were  later  sold  by  the  pound.  Mr.  Shaler  told  some 
amusing  stories  of  the  "natives"  who  sat  on  the  periphery  of 
the  excavations  silently  watching  all  that  was  going  on.  One 
in  particular  referred  to  an  old  man  who  had  been  constant  in 


248     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

attendance.  At  last  one  day  when  the  fragments  of  a  huge  ele- 
phant were  dug  out,  he  exclaimed,  "That  knocks  Moses/'  and, 
in  a  disgusted  frame  of  mind,  walked  away,  never  to  return. 
In  a  letter  to  Agassiz,  dated  Cambridge,  July  6,  1868,  Mr. 
Shaler  sets  forth  his  plan  of  work  at  the  Museum.  Some  ex- 
tracts from  this  letter  will  show  the  general  trend  of  his  thought 
at  an  early  period  in  regard  to  teaching.  He  writes :  - 

.  .  .  That  I  may  the  better  explain  the  objects  I  shall  have  in  view 
during  my  connection  with  the  Museum  in  the  years  to  come,  I  will  con- 
sider the  work  as  divided  into  two  parts  which  need  be  described  separately. 
The  first  relates  to  the  teaching  which  I  shall  undertake  to  do.  The  second 
to  the  work  of  carrying  forward  the  arrangement  of  the  collection  of  fossils. 

In  setting  before  me  a  plan  for  my  work  in  the  first  of  these  lines  I  have 
been  guided  by  the  desire  to  do  all  in  my  power  to  render  apparent  to  the 
public  generally,  and  especially  to  the  authorities  of  Massachusetts,  to  whom 
we  owe  so  much,  the  eminent  value  of  natural  history  as  a  branch  of  a  general 
education,  and  the  extent  to  which  our  Museum,  by  the  organization  and 
its  resources,  is  capable  of  effecting  the  dissemination  of  sound  knowledge 
of  this  science.  .  .  There  are  two  subsidiary  means  of  giving  value  to 
our  labor  which  seem  to  me  to  promise  good  results.  The  first  is  to  organize 
lectures  of  such  a  character  as  the  people  may  comprehend,  to  be  given 
on  Sundays,  Saturday  afternoons,  or  some  such  hours  as  would  admit  the 
presence  of  the  laboring  public;  further  than  this,  short  excursions  from 
Boston,  on  Sundays,  if  public  opinion  would  permit,  open,  with  certain 
restrictions,  to  the  public.  The  other  plan  is  to  begin  the  formation  of 
type  collections  of  specimens  intended  to  illustrate  descriptive  catalogues, 
in  the  form  of  text-books  if  it  should  be  considered  desirable.  .  .  . 

I  see  my  way  more  clearly  in  all  that  regards  the  strictly  scientific 
teaching.  This  should  be  divided  into  lecture  teaching,  which  must  be  a 
process  of  imparting  knowledge,  and  field  teaching,  which  shall  be  so  ar- 
ranged as  to  train  observation.  ...  I  expect  to  give  two  courses  of  lectures 
each  year  belonging  to  this  plan,  of  about  twenty  lectures  each.  I  shall 
avoid  a  textbook  arrangement  of  the  matter  by  the  effort  to  embody  some 
one  object  in  each  course.  Thus  the  first  course  on  geology  shall  be  so 
arranged  as  to  give  preeminence  to  the  greatest  phenomenon  in  the  history 
of  our  earth's  surface,  viz.  the  formation  of  the  continents  with  the  attend- 
ant differentiations  of  the  sea-basins.  Without  excluding  the  ordinary 
matter  of  geological  lectures,  I  expect  to  group  my  facts  so  that  the  great 
scheme  of  land  and  sea  can  be  watched  in  its  development  and  studied  in  its 


WORK  ON  THE  COAST  SURVEY  249 

adult  state.  I  need  not  say  that  it  will  be  impossible  to  do  a  great  deal  with 
this  subject  in  the  present  state  of  our  science ;  but  I  hope  to  learn  myself 
and  teach  my  hearers  that  questions  admitting  of  no  great  amount  of  accu- 
rate determination  may  still  be  studied  with  profit.  In  the  same  way  I  hope 
to  make  the  course  on  paleontology  serve  to  impress  upon  the  student  the 
feeling  which  I  have  acquired  from  your  teachings  and  which  I  value  above 
any  other  intellectual  result :  that  there  is  an  intelligence  guiding  the  changes 
of  nature  and  that  the  surest  way  to  assimilate  ourselves  to  this  great  guide 
is  by  patiently  seeking  to  comprehend  the  things  about  us.  With  this  view 
the  leading  thought  of  the  lectures  on  paleontology  will  be  the  evidences  of 
an  intellectual  plan  in  the  history  of  the  animal  kingdom.  .  .  . 

During  1870  Mr.  Shaler  worked  on  the  Quincy  and  Nahant 
sheet  for  the  United  States  Coast  Survey,  and  from  this  time 
on,  covering  a  period  of  many  years,  he  was  continuously  em- 
ployed in  its  service ;  his  connection  with  it  was  very  close  and 
twice  he  was  offered  the  directorship,  which  he  declined.  Mr. 
Cleveland  was  almost  indignant  with  him  for  refusing  the 
office.  Mr.  Shaler,  however,  had  an  intense  dislike  to  the  politi- 
cal side  of  government  employment.  The  diplomacy,  verging 
toward  intrigue,  which  often  seemed  necessary  to  secure  appro- 
priations as  well  as  to  maintain  oneself  against  rival  claimants 
was  repugnant  to  his  temper  of  mind.  He  preferred  the  stability 
of  tenure  at  Harvard  and  the  non-interference  which  character- 
izes the  administration  of  that  university.  And  yet,  notwith- 
standing his  unwillingness  to  become  the  director  of  a  National 
Survey,  he  took  an  active  part  in  furthering  the  organization 
of  Government  Surveys,  as  is  shown  in  the  following  letter. 

May  20th,  1870. 

THE  HON.  SIB  RODERICK  IMPEY  MURCHISON,  BART., 

President  of  the  Royal  Geological  Society,  etc.,  etc. 
Sir:  —  The  American  Social  Science  Associations  are  endeavoring  to  urge 
upon  the  people  of  the  United  States  the  importance  of  a  National  Survey 
with  the  hope  of  securing  from  the  Federal  Congress  the  necessary  legisla- 
tion for  the  organization  of  a  thorough  Geodetic  and  Geological  Survey 
together  with  a  careful  study  of  the  ethnology  and  natural  history  of  the 
region  traversed.  The  society  proposes  to  have  a  paper  on  the  value  of 
such  surveys  printed  and  widely  distributed  among  our  people.  Knowing 


250     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

the  influence  of  your  name  in  our  country,  they  have  deputized  me  to  write 
to  you,  begging  that  you  will  favor  them  with  your  written  opinion  of  the 
value  of  such  surveys  in  the  development  of  national  resources  and  in  the 
furtherance  of  scientific  investigation,  and  allow  them  to  print  and  circulate 
the  same  with  the  aforesaid  report. 

Trusting  that  you  will  pardon  this  trespass  upon  your  patience, 
I  have  the  honor  to  remain, 

Your  most  obedient  servant, 

N.  S.  SHALER. 

Although  Mr.  Shaler  had  for  some  time  (having  received  his 
appointment  in  1868)  been  discharging  the  duties  of  professor 
of  paleontology,  there  seems  still  to  have  been  difficulty  in 
finding  room  for  his  classes.  During  his  forty  years  of  teach- 
ing his  classes  migrated  from  one  lecture-hall  to  another  in 
quest  of  space  and  air.  His  largest  class,  Geology  4,  after  various 
wanderings  found  a  resting-place  for  some  time  in  Sanders 
Theatre,  and  finally  in  the  large  lecture-room  at  the  Museum. 
Some  of  the  letters  written  by  Professor  Agassiz  at  this  period 
throw  light  on  Museum  affairs,  and  also  show  that  he  was  in- 
terested in  securing  accommodations  for  Mr.  Shaler's  students. 

March  30, 1870  [?]. 

Dear  Sir:  —  I  shall  do  everything  that  can  be  done  to  accommodate  as 
large  classes  of  working  students  as  are  likely  to  be  brought  together.  There 
need  be  no  delay  about  it,  as  our  new  building  is  up  and  I  am  willing  to  fit 
out  for  the  purpose  any  part  that  will  answer.  But  the  thing  must  be  done 
by  the  administration  of  the  Museum  and  not  by  that  of  the  College. 
Ever  truly  yours,  L.  AGASSIZ. 

June  8th,  1870. 

My  dear  Shaler:  —  I  cannot  let  you  or  the  Museum  alone  as  long  as  I 
live.  Remember  that  the  central  part  of  the  new  building  might  have  been 
spoiled  but  for  my  interference;  as  long  as  I  breathe  I  mean  to  look  after 
everything.  It  is  my  nature  never  to  give  up. 

Ever  truly  yours,  L.  AGASSIZ. 

My  dear  Sir:  ...  I  have  too  much  to  say  concerning  your  letter  of 
yesterday  to  do  it  in  writing.  I  would  only  request  you  now  to  see  the 


THE  SCIENTIFIC  SCHOOL  CLASSES  251 

President  and  urge  upon  him  the  necessity  of  connecting  with  Harvard  at 
any  price  all  the  men  in  the  country  who  will  give  character  to  American 
culture  in  letters  and  science  during  the  present  generation.  Unless  we  do 
this  no  plan  for  organization  or  combination  will  avail.  ...  I  know  that 
unless  the  University  follows  at  the  rate  at  which  the  Museum  advances,  the 
Museum  must  stop  or  be  separated  from  the  University,  which  would  be 
a  lamentable  result.  And  now  tell  Lyman  that  it  is  of  paramount  importance 
to  press  on  the  building  of  the  Museum,  since  you  can  have  no  fitting  accom- 
modation for  the  students  before  our  addition  is  completed.  I  shall  write 
to  him  also.  Until  that  is  done  I  do  not  see  how  we  could  receive  the  speci- 
mens of  the  Harvard  Natural  History  Society,  —  unless  they  are  willing  to 
have  them  boxed  up  and  stored  in  one  of  our  sheds  until  next  winter. 
Yours  truly,  L.  AGASSIZ. 

Nov.  29,  1871. 

Dear  Mr.  Shaler:  ...  If  I  were  to  surrender  that  room  to  students'  work 
the  Museum  would  suffer  materially.  .  .  .  You  will  remember  that  when 
I  told  you  I  could  only  give  up  one  room  for  students'  work,  it  was  because 
the  Museum  assistants  should  be  provided  for ;  but  only  two  were  provided 
for  and  the  others  are  to  this  day  entirely  without  proper  accommodations. 
I  must  therefore  leave  you  for  this  year  where  you  are.  But  be  assured  that 
I  will  make  every  proper  exertion  for  the  accommodation  of  your  students. 
Ever  truly  yours,  L.  AGASSIZ. 

In  1872,  among  other  undertakings,  Mr.  Shaler  worked  up 
the  geology  of  the  Sea  Island  district,  and  having  an  excellent 
opportunity  to  do  so  made  a  close  study  of  the  Sea  Island 
negroes,  who,  because  of  their  isolated  life  on  the  plantations 
there,  showed,  in  his  opinion,  more  plainly  than  any  others 
the  natural  bent  of  the  race.  Many  of  his  letters  written  during 
these  geological  wanderings,  although  they  seldom  allude  to  his 
scientific  work,  are  so  thoroughly  characteristic  that  it  seems 
worth  while  to  give  extracts  from  them. 

OAK  BLUFFS,  MARTHA'S  VINEYARD,  June  29th,  1872. 

...  If  it  were  of  any  use  I  could  swear  once  again  that  the  next  time 
I  had  to  travel  you  and  the  little  ones  should  go  along  with  me.  The  day 
has  been  hot,  and,  except  the  sea  ride,  quite  uncomfortable.  Oak  Bluffs 


252  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

is  a  mushroom  town  without  any  oaks,  except  some  scrubs,  and  little  in 
the  way  of  bluffs  except  what  one  gets  from  the  super-christianized  people. 
White  pine  in  the  shape  of  gothic  shanties  is  the  only  forest  growth  I  have 
yet  found.  One  is  shockingly  reminded  of  the  surroundings  of  a  race-track 
rather  than  a  camp-meeting.  The  place  is  not  altogether  bad.  There  are 
some  hundreds  of  little  box-like  houses  of  a  queer  and  profane  architecture 
occupied  by  people  of  the  middle  classes  or  waiting  for  some  one  of  that 
class  to  buy  them.  These  little  dabs  of  dwellings,  about  as  big  as  boarding- 
house  slices  of  mince  pie,  are  scattered  around  through  the  thick-set  copse 
of  oaks!  (save  the  mark)  which  are  not  high  enough  to  hide  their  ten-foot 
eaves.  There  is  no  visible  kitchen  to  them,  nor  any  outward  means  of  exist- 
ence unless  they  live  on  acorns  or  are  fed  by  the  woodchucks  or  the  emaci- 
ated crows,  which  look  old  enough  to  have  performed  the  work  for  the  Syrian 
hermit  some  centuries  ago. 

The  only  substantial  and  satisfactory  thing  here  is  the  sea  that  seems  the 
greater  for  the  weak  things  on  its  shore.  It  is  as  quiet  as  a  baby  to-night, 
but  it  looks  as  if  it  might  claim  this  sand-heap  as  its  plaything  again  some 
day  and  so  make  an  end  of  it.  The  only  place  to  behold  the  sea  is  from  an 
island:  the  mainland  seems  too  steadfast,  a  boat  is  too  familiar,  besides 
uncomfortable  and  makes  a  bitter  end  of  sentiment;  but  here  you  are 
hemmed  in  by  immensity,  feeling  like  Jonah  when  the  whale  opened  for 
him.  A  change  of  air  always  excites  me ;  my  young  companion  has  gone  to 
bed  overpowered  by  emotions  of  a  composite  kind :  affected  almost  to  tears 
by  the  grandeur  of  the  sea  and  the  size  of  his  supper.  I  hear  his  melancholy 
snore  through  the  double  coat  of  whitewash  and  wall-paper  which  form  the 
wall  of  my  room.  I  have  no  one  to  talk  to  and  only  a  smoky  coal-oil  lamp 
for  light,  so  I  must  try  to  sleep  it  off ;  I  am  obliged  to  the  glacial  period  for 
having  made  my  work  at  this  end  of  the  island  quite  simple.  I  go  to-morrow 
or  Monday  to  Tisbury,  when  I  shall  write  again. 

S.  W.  HARBOR,  Sept.  13, 1872. 

.  .  .  Should  it  continue  stormy  to-morrow  I  shall  not  take  the  steamer 
but  go  by  stage  to  Bangor  and  then  by  rail  to  Eastport,  even  though  it  take 
me  another  day.  Safety  is  sometimes  better  than  speed.  I  dined,  or  supped, 
as  one  has  a  mind  to  call  it,  this  evening  with  Mr. and  his  wife,  Balti- 
more people  and  very  pleasant.  The  officers  have  a  life  of  dull  routine,  but 
they  seem  to  have  their  hearts  in  it.  So  far  the  journey  has  been  only  moder- 
ately profitable.  I  fear  that  I  am  not  fresh  enough  to  see  to  the  best  advan- 
tage. There  is  not  a  bit  of  holiday  spirit  in  the  business.  I  want  to  get  home 
and  merely  work  because  I  am  here  for  that.  The  Mount-Deserters  are  a 
hard  set,  almost  as  poor  as  Carolinians.  They  have  a  better  excuse,  however; 


GEOLOGICAL  WANDERINGS  253 

on  some  tracts  of  a  thousand  acres  there  is  not  enough  soil  to  hide  the  naked- 
ness of  a  single  acre.  Bleak  bare  rocks  channelled  with  all  sorts  of  ugly 
scars  of  ice. 

SOUTHWEST  HARBOR,  MOUNT  DESERT,  Thursday  evening. 

...  I  came  to-day  from  Sedgwick,  first  by  carriage  six  miles,  then  by 
fishing  boat  eight,  then  by  carriage  again  eight  to  this  place,  saving  thereby 
nearly  two  days  of  time.  To-morrow  and  Saturday  morning  I  hope  to  finish 
my  work  here  and  leave  that  noon  for  Machias,  which  lies  about  twenty  miles 
from  Eastport.  Sunday  I  shall,  if  all  goes  well,  cross  that  distance,  and  if 
nothing  goes  awry,  get  home  on  Tuesday  morning.  The  mountains  here 
have  been  wrapped  in  clouds  nearly  all  day.  They  have  fine,  strong  outlines, 
though  too  bleak  to  be  beautiful.  The  deep  inlets  and  lakes  of  the  island  give 
it  a  peculiar  beauty.  After  all  I  am  inclined  to  think  it  the  most  beautiful 
part  of  our  shore.  My  ride  to-day  has  been  lonesome  enough ;  a  drizzling 
rain  is  not  good  company,  and  one  tires  of  the  unending  march. 

EASTPORT,  MAINE,  Sept.  15. 

...  I  have  kept  up  well  under  food  at  all  hours  and  all  fashions ;  dined 
to-day  off  of  potatoes  and  pie.  Within  twenty-four  hours  have  travelled  in 
two  rowboats,  one  sailboat,  one  steamboat,  one  express- wagon,  one  buggy, 
besides  multitudinous  goings  afoot  with  baggage  and  without.  Eastport  has 
burned  down  and  been  built  up  since  I  was  here :  the  people  I  knew  have  died 
save  one  old  man,  who  I  dare  say  has  forgotten  me.  Eleven  years  brings  its 
changes.  Of  our  Anticosti  expedition  three  of  the  six,  and  the  most  strong, 
are  gone. 

The  town  is  pretty,  but  a  dreadful  fog  hole.  It  has,  however,  become  a 
place  of  summer  resort.  We  are  getting  thickly  crowded  when  the  world  comes 
to  this  land  of  eclipse  for  summer.  I  fear  I  shall  soon  be  bored  with  geology 
if  it  keeps  me  away  from  you  and  your  chickens. 

About  this  time  Mr.  Shaler  also  undertook  several  scientific 
expeditions  of  a  more  or  less  private  nature.  One  of  these  was 
a  journey  with  nine  students,  his  family,  and  two  men  servants, 
as  far  south  as  the  White  Sulphur  Springs  of  Virginia.  The  party 
started  in  wagons  from  Mr.  Shaler's  door  in  Cambridge,  driving 
or  walking  by  day  and  sleeping  in  tents  at  night.  He  did  not 
urge  the  students  to  walk  more  than  ten  miles  a  day ;  for,  when 
this  limit  is  exceeded,  he  said,  "your  soul  goes  to  your  shoes 
and  you  have  not  nervous  force  enough  left  to  be  keenly  appre- 
ciative of  that  which  passes  around  you." 


254     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

One  preliminary  difficulty  was  found  in  securing  a  cook  who 
could  do  his  work  by  an  open  fire.  The  throng  who  applied  in 
answer  to  an  advertisement  was  composed,  as  he  described 
them,  of  "broken-down  actors,  decayed  gentlemen,  ruffianly- 
looking  foreigners  of  mixed  nationalities,  and  sickly  Irish  boys." 
Since  none  of  these  could  prove  their  efficiency,  it  was  necessary 
to  send  to  Virginia.  "  George proved  to  be  as  worthy  a  fel- 
low as  ever  turned  a  flapjack  and  fed  our  eager  appetites  with 
commendable  patience."  For  some  time  before  the  departure, 
a  number  of  horses  bought  by  Mr.  Shaler  for  the  occasion  (he 
had  a  true  eye  for  the  points  of  a  horse,  and  could  make  an 
instantaneous  decision  as  to  an  animal's  merits  —  a  few  tricks 
more  or  less,  and  the  ingredient  known  as  "ginger,"  were  to 
him  unobjectionable  features)  were  mustered  in  his  yard  on 
Bow  Street,  now  the  site  of  Westmorly  Hall,  where,  having  full 
range,  their  horseplay  attracted  all  the  small  boys  in  the  neigh- 
borhood as  well  as  many  adults,  who  hung  like  a  fringe  about 
the  fence  stimulating  in  every  possible  way  the  circus-like 
antics  of  the  animals,  soon  to  be  brought  down  to  hard  work. 

The  experiences  and  results  of  this  journey  are  given  in  a 
series  of  articles  published  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly.  This  was 
Mr.  Shaler's  first  literary  venture  of  any  importance  and  at 
once  the  felicity  of  his  style  was  recognized.  From  this  time 
on,  writing  upon  one  subject  or  another  was  an  almost  daily 
occupation  with  him,  becoming  at  last,  so  to  speak,  a  second 
nature. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

ENGLAND 

1872-1873 

His  health  again  failing  him,  Mr.  Shaler  embarked  on  the 
Siberia  for  England,  and  reached  Liverpool  December  4, 1872. 
The  passage  was  exceedingly  stormy.  The  ship,  heavily  laden 
with  grain,  listed,  and  at  times  when  she  went  over  on  her 
beam-ends,  it  seemed  as  if  she  would  never  again  right  herself. 
The  lifeboats,  the  captain's  bridge,  and  the  bulwarks  were  all 
swept  away;  everything  in  fact  that  could  be  rent  asunder  by 
the  huge  waves  parted  company  from  the  stanch  hull.  A  num- 
ber of  the  crew  were  washed  overboard  and  others  seriously 
injured.  Mr.  Shaler,  whose  nature  always  moved  him  to  give 
aid  and  comfort  to  others  at  trying  times,  was  lying  prostrate, 
so  ill  that  he  could  take  for  nourishment  only  a  few  table- 
spoonfuls  of  champagne.  Dr.  Maurice  Richardson  of  Boston, 
then  a  young  man  whose  laurels  were  still  in  the  bud,  happily 
was  a  fellow  passenger,  and  in  the  forlorn  state  of  affairs  helped 
to  take  care  of  the  baby ;  while  the  captain,  a  surly  old  sea-dog 
in  fair  weather,  came  often  during  the  day  and  night  to  give 
courage  by  his  presence  and  also  to  make  the  dreary  travellers 
laugh  at  his  marvellous  feats  of  ventriloquism;  but  when  the 
sky  cleared,  he  withdrew  into  his  crusty  shell  and  once  more 
became  the  brusque  disciplinarian. 

At  Malvern  Mr.  Shaler  soon  got  well  enough  to  enjoy  geolo- 
gical tramps,  and  to  study,  particularly,  the  black  shales  and 
holly-bush  sandstones  of  that  region.  Dr.  Grindrod's  geological 
collection  and  his  personal  guidance  were  of  great  service  to 
him.  There  are  letters  which  show  that  he  was  also  at  his  old 
business  of  instructing  boys,  taking  the  sons  of  friends  to  see  the 


256     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

doctor's  collection  as  well  as  to  interesting  geological  localities. 
He  often  spoke  of  his  effort  at  this  time  to  find  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Simons,  a  cultivated  gentleman  and  a  geologist,  to  whom  he  had 

been  warmly  commended.  Arriving  at  A ,  he  set  out  for  the 

parsonage,  asking  directions  of  the  various  country  people  he 
happened  to  meet,  none  of  whom,  however,  seemed  to  have 
the  slightest  idea  where  their  parson  dwelt.  At  last  two  yokels 
more  conscientious  than  the  others  stopped  to  think,  and  after 
a  while  one  of  them,  receiving  a  ray  of  light,  looked  inquiringly 
at  the  other  and  exclaimed :  "  Why,  man,  he  must  mean  the 
Squarson."  Mystified  as  to  who  or  what  the  " Squarson"  was, 
Mr.  Shaler  nevertheless  followed  the  course  his  finger  pointed, 
and  soon  learned  from  Mr.  Simons  himself  that,  since  he  was 
both  squire  and  parson,  the  natives,  with  verbal  thrift,  merged 
the  titles.  During  his  stay  with  this  squire-parson,  Mr.  Shaler 
was  charmed  with  the  man  himself  and  with  the  felicitous  man- 
ner in  which  he  discharged  his  combined  duties  —  preparing 
the  soul  for  virtue  and  both  body  and  soul  for  the  punishment 
he  sometimes  felt  called  upon  to  mete  out. 

As  soon  as  the  doctor  would  permit,  Mr.  Shaler  left  Malvern 
for  London.  He  succeeded  in  finding  agreeable  lodgings  in  Re- 
gent's Park.  The  bedrooms  were  sunny,  —  that  is,  the  windows 
admitted  the  sun  whenever  it  shone,  —  and  the  grounds  were 
enclosed  with  a  high  brick  wall,  which  shut  out  the  noise.  The 
conditions  were  favorable  both  for  health  and  comfort,  and  he 
did  not  fail  to  make  physical  progress  notwithstanding  the 
enormous  temptation  to  overdo;  for  he  not  only  wished  to  gain 
an  insight  into  the  conditions  of  social  life,  but  also  to  profit 
by  the  intellectual  revival  which  had  just  then  put  England  at 
the  head  of  European  thought.  In  one  of  his  letters  to  Hooker, 
Huxley  writes,  "I  firmly  believe  in  the  advent  of  an  English 
epoch  in  science  and  art  which  will  lick  the  Augustan  (which 
by  the  bye  had  neither  science  nor  art  in  our  sense,  but  you 
know  what  I  mean)  into  fits."  Perhaps  this  was  the  epoch  he 
predicted,  although,  living  in  the  thick  of  it,  he  did  not  perceive 


VISIT  TO  LONDON  257 

it  at  the  time.  Mr.  Shaler  felt  it  a  privilege  to  meet,  as  he  con- 
stantly did,  Darwin,  Huxley,  Tyndall,  Lyell,  Galton,  Proctor, 
Ramsay,  Geoffrys,  and  others,  and  to  go  to  the  various  scien- 
tific meetings,  clubs,  and  social  reunions  illuminated  by  their 
presence. 

Mr.  Shaler  rather  prided  himself  upon  being  able  at  a  glance 
to  distinguish  a  Scotchman,  no  matter  how  long  he  had  been 
out  of  his  native  land,  from  any  other  Britisher;  moreover, 
wherever  he  went,  he  was  struck  with  the  potency  of  Scotch 
influence,  and  in  illustration  of  this  he  was  fond  of  telling  of  an 
experience  he  had  one  evening  at  the  Royal  Society  (I  think  it 
was  the  Royal  Society) .  Sitting  at  the  president's  right  hand 
at  dinner,  he  casually  remarked,  "  I  am  glad  at  last  to  find  an 
Englishman  at  the  head  of  one  of  the  great  London  societies." 
Thanking  him  for  the  implied  compliment,  the  president  re- 
plied, "  I  came  from  Edinburgh  to  London  before  I  was  twenty- 
one  and  therefore  may  claim  to  be  an  English  citizen,  but  I  am 
not  an  Englishman." 

At  another  dinner,  where  Tyndall  was  called  upon  to  speak, 
having  returned  not  long  before  from  the  United  States,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  give  an  account  of  what  he  saw  and  did  at  Niagara 
Falls.  In  the  midst  of  a  thrilling  description  of  a  hairbreadth 
escape  from  beneath  the  Bridal  Veil,  his  eyes  happening  to  fall 
upon  Mr.  Shaler,  he  stood  for  a  moment  dumbfounded,  and  then, 
with  a  look  which  seemed  to  say  "  Don't  tell  on  me,  old  fellow," 
continued  in  a  more  subdued  and  veracious  strain.  Before  the 
evening  was  over  he  came  up  to  Mr.  Shaler  and  said,  "  I  was 
surprised  to  see  you  here,  and  to  tell  the  truth,  perhaps  in  my 
story  of  Niagara  I  did  stretch  the  long  bow  a  little,  but  then 
you  know  how,  at  a  dinner,  one  has  got  to  make  his  speech 
telling";  and,  shaking  hands,  he  went  on  his  way  convinced 
that  his  American  friend  was  not  unacquainted  with  the  cloak 
of  charity. 

While  Mr.  Shaler  was  seemingly  engrossed  with  all  the  vital 
interest  of  the  mother  country,  he  was  not  unmindful  of  what 


258  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

was  going  on  at  home.  He  wrote  back  frequently,  asking  for 
information  concerning  scientific  progress  there.  Moreover  he 
was  constantly  tantalized  by  the  sight  of  treasures  which  he 
coveted  for  the  Museum,  but  which,  in  most  instances,  he  was 
obliged  to  pass  by,  not  because  the  director  did  not  want  them, 
but  because  he  could  not  find  the  means  for  their  purchase. 
The  scheme  for  a  Summer  School  originally  intended  to  be  held 
at  Nantucket  was  also  at  this  time  much  on  his  mind. 

From  London  to  Cambridge,  according  to  the  American 
reckoning  of  distance,  is  but  a  step,  and  there  Mr.  Shaler  was 
at  once  reminded  of  Cambridge  by  the  Charles.  Furthermore, 
he  was  convinced  that  the  younger  town  did  not  monopolize 
all  the  dulness  or  the  tinge  of  melancholy  that  the  poet  Gray 
chafed  under  as  something  inseparable  from  his  own  and  other 
colleges.  It  is  true  it  was  not  term  time,  and  therefore  an  un- 
wonted stillness  brooded  over  the  venerable  place ;  but  if  light- 
hearted  students  failed  to  troop  through  the  corridors  there  was 
no  barren  void:  the  shades  of  the  great  men  dead  and  gone 
spoke  to  the  spirit. 

One  of  the  most  enduring  and  agreeable  friendships  that  Mr. 
Shaler  made  while  at  Cambridge  was  with  Thompson,  the 
Master  of  Trinity  College.  Mr.  Shaler  happening  one  day  in  his 
presence  to  mention  the  celebrated  Richard  Bentley,  Thomp- 
son asked  abruptly,  "What  do  you  know  about  him?"  "Oh," 
said  Mr.  Shaler,  "  I  only  know  him  in  connection  with  the  Let- 
ters of  Phalaris  and  with  Horace,  as  the  builder  of  the  famous 
staircase  and  the  hen-house,  as  the  man  who  wrung  money 
from  the  doctors  of  divinity  and  in  spite  of  the  uprising  of 
his  subjects  couldn't  be  ousted  from  Trinity."  "Well,"  said 
Thompson,  laughing,  "that's  pretty  good  for  an  outsider.  Come 
and  see  me." 

A  few  days  after,  an  invitation  to  luncheon  was  received. 
We  went  at  the  appointed  time,  but  found  the  host  and  hostess 
more  grave  than  gay,  the  air  charged  with  an  overtaxed  and 
perfunctory  hospitality  which  was  not  reassuring.  As  the  meal 


TRINITY  COLLEGE,  CAMBRIDGE  259 

progressed,  greater  geniality  prevailed,  and,  finally,  when  the 
party  adjourned  to  the  beautiful  garden,  all  barriers  broke 
down  at  the  recital  of  some  amusing  incidents  connected  with 
the  recent  visit  of  the  Armenian  patriarchs  and  their  numerous 
attendants.  These  guests  had  just  gone,  apparently  in  the  full 
odor  of  sanctity.  Their  customs,  not  being  in  accordance  with 
Western  habits,  had  necessitated  a  thorough  house-cleaning,  — 
the  taking  down  of  bedsteads  and  the  taking  up  of  carpets. 
This  element  of  confusion,  together  with  the  previous  efforts 
to  entertain  their  guests  from  the  gorgeous  East,  had  reduced 
the  master  and  his  wife  to  a  state  verging  on  a  nervous  collapse. 
The  next  visit  to  Trinity  was  more  auspicious.  Nothing  could 
have  exceeded  the  kindness  of  the  famous  scholar,  and  finally, 
when  Mr.  Shaler  took  his  leave  of  Cambridge,  he  carried  away 
with  him  various  gifts  as  souvenirs  of  the  great  college,  —  en- 
graved portraits  of  Newton  and  Milton  as  well  as  facsimiles  of 
their  writings,  these  showing  corrections  multitudinous  enough 
to  encourage  even  a  Harvard  freshman.  Besides  their  potential 
use,  there  was  another  field,  remote  from  the  poet's  usual 
wanderings,  wherein  practical  help  from  him  was  won.  In 
reply  to  some  disparaging  remarks  made  by  one  of  the  dons 
about  Yankee  pies,  he  insisting  that  the  fruit  pie  was  alien  to 
England,  Mr.  Shaler  proved  by  Milton's  own  statement  that  at 
the  time  of  the  plague,  among  other  edibles,  apple  pies  were 
left  at  Trinity  Gate  for  the  students  living  there  in  a  state  of 
quarantine. 

At  a  memorial  meeting  held  in  honor  of  the  late  Woodwardian 
Professor  of  Geology  —  the  kindly,  witty,  and  vivacious  Adam 
Sedgwick,  a  man  of  the  same  type  as  Mr.  Shaler  himself  —  there 
was  a  notable  assemblage  of  men  gathered  on  the  platform. 
Among  these  were  the  old  Earl  of  Powis,  the  Duke  of  Argyle, 
the  Duke  of  Devonshire,  and  others  distinguished  for  high  so- 
cial position,  statesmanship,  and  learning.  Mr.  Shaler  watched 
closely  the  faces  of  this  picked  lot  of  Englishmen,  seeking  to  note 
what  changes  the  race  might  have  undergone  by  being  trans- 


260  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

planted  to  the  New  World.  So  far  from  discovering  certain  alleged 
modifications,  he  recalled  corresponding  types  of  faces  among 
his  old  friends  in  Kentucky  and  Virginia,  and  laughingly  directed 
his  companion's  attention  to  the  strong  likeness  between  the 
Duke  of  Argyle  and  a  respected  old  carpenter  in  Cambridge, 
Massachusetts.  Furthermore,  while  talking  to  some  of  these 
men  he  noticed  a  similarity  of  phrasing ;  also  the  use  of  certain 
words  peculiar  to  the  Southern  section  of  his  own  country. 
As  regards  public  speaking,  he  was  struck  with  the  fact  that  the 
young  men  who  had  profited  by  the  recently  organized  unions 
for  debate  delivered  themselves  more  freely  and  to  the  point 
than  the  older  ones,  who  seemed  to  have  made  a  cult  of  a  hesi- 
tating and  inconclusive  utterance.  Mr.  Shaler  himself  was 
greatly  applauded  whenever  he  spoke  in  public,  his  success  at 
times  bringing  its  reward,  as  will  be  seen  from  the  following 
incident. 

One  morning  while  wandering  over  Ely  Cathedral,  "the 
most  glorious  shrine  in  Christendom,"  he  was  approached  by  a 
gentleman  who  introduced  himself  as  the  Dean.  "  I  heard  you 
speak,"  he  said,  "a  few  evenings  ago  at  Cambridge  and  was 
so  much  impressed  by  your  clearness  of  thought  and  statement 
that,  recognizing  you  here,  I  was  prompted  to  seek  your  ac- 
quaintance; and  now,"  he  added,  "will  you  permit  me  to  be 
your  guide."  And  in  and  out  of  vault,  choir,  crypt,  and  Lady 
chapel,  and  down  the  transepts  and  great  aisles,  into  the 
"  Galilee,"  or  western  porch,  he  led  the  travellers,  indicating  here 
and  there  the  work  of  the  centuries  as  recorded  in  early  Norman, 
Decorated,  and  Perpendicular  Gothic  architecture;  rolling  off  all 
the  while  the  names  of  founders,  builders,  and  restorers,  from 
St.  Etheldreda  to  Alan  de  Walsingham  and  Sir  Gilbert  Scott. 
At  last,  when  all  had  been  seen  that  the  learned  doctor  could 
show,  he  wound  up  by  inviting  the  strangers  to  come  home  with 
him  to  luncheon.  The  thirteenth-century  Guesten  Hall  of  the 
old  Abbey,  which  at  one  time  had  been  a  camp  of  refuge  for 
Hereward,  had  been  converted  into  a  deanery;  and  here,  at 


VISIT  TO  OXFORD  261 

the  very  threshold,  one  was  obliged  to  simulate,  by  bending 
low,  the  spirit  of  the  ancient  and  devout  monks,  for  the  arched 
doorway  was  under  five  feet  in  height.  But  inside  all  was 
glorious,  the  ceilings  rose  high  and  the  walls  receded.  More- 
over, in  this  wonderful  place  of  contrasts  there  was  one  room, 
a  studio,  holding  the  most  modern  examples  of  sculpture, 
wrought  by  the  dean's  own  daughter. 

This  fen  region,  the  reclaimed  Marshlands  (some  two  thou- 
sand square  miles  of  the  best  corn  land  in  England),  set  Mr. 
Shaler  to  thinking  what  might  be  done  by  draining  the  vast 
acreage  of  swamp  in  the  United  States.  His  imagination  also 
played  about  the  political  consequences  of  the  appropriation  of 
this  land  to  farming  uses.  He  maintained  (jestingly,  perhaps) 
that  the  final  deadly  struggle  between  Charles  I  and  Crom- 
well originated  in  their  early  disputes  over  this  same  land  - 
whether  it  should  belong  to  the  crown  or  to  individuals.  How- 
ever this  may  be,  the  potential  riches  of  the  swamp  districts 
in  his  own  country  were  constantly  in  mind,  and  later,  in  addi- 
tion to  the  actual  study  and  reports  that  he  made  upon  them, 
he  persistently  called  the  attention  of  business  men  to  this  great 
undeveloped  source  of  wealth. 

Mr.  Shaler  carried  but  few  letters  of  introduction  to  Oxford ; 
but  after  the  first  perfunctory  civilities  extended  to  a  professor 
from  another  learned  institution  he  received  attentions  which 
only  respect  and  personal  liking  call  forth.  Some  of  the  enter- 
tainments given  in  his  honor  are  mentioned  in  a  journal  kept 
by  his  wife.  He  himself  was  so  occupied  during  his  travels  with 
his  geological  notes  and  sketches  that  he  left  to  her  the  record 
of  lighter  events.  Nearly  all  of  the  incidents  mentioned  in  the 
journal  afterwards  entered  into  his  conversation,  and  therefore 
seem  pertinent  here. 

Oxford,  April  24th,  1873.  — We  dined  last  evening  at  Dr.  Rolleston's  (pro- 
fessor of  anatomy).  He  is  a  fine-looking,  quick-witted  man,  with  a  wide 
range  of  knowledge  and  experience.  He  talks  well,  and  a  great  deal,  upon 
every  subject.  Mr.  Shaler  has  taken  a  great  fancy  to  him  and  when  the  two 


262     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

get  together  they  have  a  slashing  time  of  it.  The  other  day  while  he  was 
examining  in  company  with  several  others  Rolleston's  collection  of  early 
bronze  implements,  he  (Rolleston)  handed  a  frail  but  beautiful  Roman  strigil 
to  a  young  Englishwoman  to  look  at.  Unhappily  it  slipped  from  her  hands 
and  in  striking  the  floor  was  almost  resolved  to  dust.  It  was  easy  to  see  the 
distress  on  the  doctor's  face,  but  he  quickly  rallied,  and  gathering  up  the 
fragments  said  to  the  frightened  girl, "  Don't  worry,  my  dear,  it  has,  I  assure 
you,  been  in  many  a  scrape  before." 

April  26th.  —  We  lunched  yesterday  with  the  Master  of  "  All  Souls  "  College. 
The  luncheon  was  served  in  the  beautiful,  high  wainscoted  combination 
room.  In  Professor  B.'s  own  room,  into  which  he  took  us  while  showing  the 
college,  we  noticed  his  surplice  hanging  behind  the  door.  Each  looked  at 
the  other  with  the  same  thought  in  mind.  Here  was  a  man  of  the  world 
much  involved  in  its  tortuous  ways  coming  back  to  his  peaceful,  secluded 
college,  and  once  more  putting  on  the  robe  of  his  youth  and  innocence. 

Tuesday.  —  We  spent  last  evening  at  Dr.  Acland  's,  a  noted  physician  who 
accompanied  the  Prince  of  Wales  to  America.  While  there  Mr.  Shaler  had 
a  long  talk  with  Mark  Pattison  —  thought  him  cold  and  clammy.  The 
Acklands,  doctor,  wife,  seven  sons  and  one  daughter,  are  charming. 

May  1st.  —  We  went  to  a  reception  at  the  vice-chancellor's  given  in  honor 
of  Mr.  Emerson.  Mrs.  Liddell  is  very  handsome.  She  was  dressed  in  a  Paris 
gown  (the  wife  of  the  vice-chancellor  at  Cambridge  wore  badly  cut  home- 
made clothes)  and  is  unusually  agreeable.  He  is  a  regular  old  grumpus ;  his 
opinion  of  himself  as  lofty  as  the  tower  of  Christ  Church,  of  which  he  is  dean. 
I  had  a  long  talk  with  Max  Muller.  He  insisted  that  Emerson  intellectually 
was  utterly  un-American  —  that  he  was  Greek  in  every  essential.  I  main- 
tained that  he  was  the  very  epitome  of  a  certain  New  England  cast  of  mind, 
but  if  he  was  to  be  transplanted  the  "  antiquity  of  his  soul "  should  give  him 
place  back  in  the  dynasties.  Apparently  Muller  gave  no  credence  to  my 
statement;  fortunately,  however,  Mr.  Shaler  just  then  joined  us  and 
squelched  his  argument  completely.  Muller  is  good-looking,  but  neither 
of  us  thought  his  face  showed  genius.  During  the  evening  the  much-prized 
original  manuscript  of  "Alice  in  Wonderland"  was  exhibited;  it  belongs 
to  the  elder  Miss  Liddell.  The  story,  it  seems,  in  the  first  place  was  told  by 
Carroll  to  her  and  her  sisters  when  he  took  them  for  strolls  on  the  banks 
of  the  Isis.  Supper  frugal,  the  English  apparently  know  but  one  meal  — 
dinner. 

May  Uh.  —  Dined  last  night  at  the  vice-chancellor's.  He  gave  me  a 
charming  little  pen-and-ink  drawing  that  he  had  made  on  blotting-paper, 
one  of  his  many  accomplishments.  Nat  is  greatly  impressed  by  the  accom- 
plishments of  the  university  men  and  often  wonders,  industrious  as  he  is 


DOM  PEDRO  — PRINCE  LEOPOLD  263 

himself,  how  they  find  time  for  the  gratification  of  their  tastes;  for,  as  he 
says,  the  professors  rise  late,  lunch  leisurely,  spend  the  afternoons  in  some 
kind  of  sport  or  exercise,  dine  late  and  well,  and  linger  long  at  table.  There 
appears  to  be  left  for  work  only  some  hours  towards  midnight.  On  the  other 
hand  he  thinks,  perhaps,  a  cloudy  sky  is  more  favorable  for  concentration 
of  thought,  and  if  perchance  one  does  undertake  mental  labor  in  the  day- 
time one's  mind  is  not  distracted  by  the  allurements  of  the  brilliant  sunlight 
which  in  America  makes  one  impatient  of  any  but  the  outdoor  life. 

Mrs.  Liddell  gave  Mr.  Shaler  an  amusing  account  of  the  Emperor  of 
Brazil's  recent  visit.  His  Majesty,  it  seems,  is  an  inveterate  sight-seer  and 
showed  frantic  haste  in  going  from  place  to  place.  One  morning  at  five 
o'clock  he  roused  the  household  that  he  might  go  to  Blenheim.  On  the  out- 
skirts of  Oxford,  at  a  shop  where  a  grocerman  was  just  taking  down  the 
shutters,  he  stopped  his  carriage  and  bought  some  buns.  From  time  to  time 
His  Majesty  dipped  into  the  brown  paper  bag  that  held  them  and  apparently 
relished  the  buns,  much  to  the  disgust  of  his  stately  host,  who  for  polite- 
ness' sake  was  obliged  to  swallow  one.  The  only  respite  that  his  entertainers 
enjoyed  during  his  stay  was  just  after  a  visit  to  the  Astronomical  Observatory, 
which  the  Emperor  stormed  late  one  night  when  every  one  but  Professor 
Adams  had  gone  to  bed.  In  his  tour  of  observation,  anxious  to  examine 
some  part  of  one  of  the  instruments,  he  knelt  on  the  floor  and  on  attempt- 
ing to  rise  gave  his  imperial  head  a  resounding  blow.  A  bandage  took  the 
place  of  a  crown,  and,  carried  back  to  Trinity  College,  he  was  put  to  bed  and 
advised  by  the  doctor  not  to  leave  it  until  he  thought  it  wise  to  let  him  do 
so.  Every  one  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief  and  prepared  to  give  himself  twenty- 
four  hours  of  rest  at  least.  But  next  day  at  luncheon,  just  as  they  were 
comfortably  seated  at  the  table,  without  warning,  in  popped  the  Emperor, 
and  shortly  after  activities  set  in  with  unabated  fury,  which  lasted  until  the 
end. 

Sunday.  —  We  were  invited  by  Mrs.  Liddell  to  take  afternoon  tea  with 
Prince  Leopold.  He  is  rather  an  awkward  youth,  his  face  dull,  but  his  man- 
ners are  unassuming.  He  was  not  half  so  agreeable  or  fluent  in  speech  as 
his  clever  Irish  tutor.  After  my  talk  with  the  prince  one  of  the  ladies  asked 
if  I  had  felt  embarrassed.  "  No,"  I  said,  "  he  is  very  much  like  some  of  our 
own  students,"  whereupon  she  looked  at  me  as  if  I  were  demented. 

It  might  as  well  be  mentioned  here,  though  recorded  later, 
that  after  a  few  days  there  came  through  Dr.  Acland  an  invita- 
tion from  the  Prince  to  Mr.  Shaler  to  take  luncheon  with  him 
at  his  villa  on  the  outskirts  of  Oxford.  In  the  afternoon,  while 


264     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

strolling  through  the  garden,  the  Prince  took  pains  to  say  how 
warm  was  his  mother's  regard  for  America ;  that  she  had  never 
forgotten  the  attentions  shown  his  brother  during  his  visit  to 
the  United  States,  and  moreover  her  one  wish  was  to  maintain 
friendly  relations  with  the  country.  In  illustration  of  this,  he 
went  on  to  say  that  as  a  boy  the  first  full  realization  he  had  of 
his  mother's  influence  as  a  queen  —  of  her  power,  outside  her 
immediate  surrounding  —  was  at  the  time  of  the  Mason  and 
Slidell  difficulty.  "At  this  critical  stage  of  affairs,  I  happened 
to  be  in  the  room,"  he  said,  "when  Lord  John  Russell  brought 
in  a  state  paper  for  the  Queen  to  sign.  After  reading  it  over 
she  handed  it  back  to  him,  saying,  "This  will  lead  to  war.' 
Again  he  returned  and  handed  her  the  paper.  Looking  over  it 
the  second  time,  she  gave  it  back  with  the  remark,  '  This  must 
be  still  further  modified.'  Once  more  the  document  was  sub- 
mitted, and  after  some  discussion,  in  which  the  words  'war,' 
'battleships/  and  'armies'  figured  largely,  she  wrote  her  sig- 
nature." 

During  several  geological  walks  together  Mr.  Shaler  formed  a 
favorable  opinion  of  the  Prince,  and  once,  while  the  two  were 
going  through  a  hospital  with  Dr.  Acland,  he  was  struck  with 
the  young  man's  disposition  to  efface  himself.  As  he  approached, 
the  various  invalids  tried  to  rise  in  order  to  show  their  respect 
for  the  Queen's  son,  but  in  every  instance  he  protested  against 
the  exertion,  and  at  last  turned  to  Mr.  Shaler  and  said,  "  This  is 
the  misery  of  my  position;  I  cannot  go  about  without  being 
bothered  by  this  kind  of  thing." 

The  journal  for  Sunday,  May  5th,  continues :  — 

Mr.  Shaler  lunched  to-day  with  some  gentlemen  at  one  of  the  colleges 
(I  forget  which  one).  On  his  return  he  said  he  had  never  before  been  so 
strongly  impressed  with  the  rich  associations  of  English  life.  While  sitting 
at  the  table,  attracted  by  its  splendid  color,  he  happened  to  look  fixedly  at  a 
stained  glass  window  just  in  front  of  him  and  then  turning  to  his  neighbor 
he  made  some  comment  about  it.  "Yes,"  the  neighbor  answered  indiffer- 
ently, "  it  is  rather  a  good  bit  of  glass ;  it  was  ordered  to  be  put  in  place,  you 
know,  by  Richard  III  when  he  was  a  student  here." 


RUSKIN  —  MALVERN  —  SCOTLAND  265 

May  6,  Monday.  —  We  went  to  hear  Mr.  Ruskin  lecture  on  the  "Swal- 
low." We  were  disappointed;  even  his  drawings  on  the  blackboard  were 
not  remarkable ;  more  than  that,  Mr.  Shaler  was  exasperated  by  the  state- 
ment he  made  that  men  of  science  had  given  no  attention  to  so  remarkable 
a  phenomenon  as  the  flight  of  birds.  On  his  way  out  he  said  to  one  of  the 
professors,  "Is  it  possible  that  Ruskin  knows  nothing  of  Marais'  great 
work  on  the  flight  of  birds?  "Of  course,  he  knows  all  about  it,  but  it 
doesn't  suit  his  purpose  to  recognize  it  here."  "Hypocrite!"  exclaimed 
Mr.  Shaler,  and  forthwith  his  sentiment  was  confirmed  by  a  knowing  wink 
on  the  part  of  the  lecturer's  colleague. 

In  spite  of  the  disillusionment  as  to  Ruskin's  veracity, 
Mr.  Shaler  paid  close  attention  to  the  Art  School  that  he  had 
founded.  He  knew  that  both  Mr.  Norton  and  Mr.  Charles  H. 
Moore  regarded  it  as  admirable  for  scope  and  thoroughness 
and  without  parallel  elsewhere  in  Europe. 

May  9th.  —  We  returned  to  Malvern  late  last  evening;  found  our  lodgings 
comfortable  and  pleasant.  Mr.  Shaler  not  well,  however,  and  much  depressed 
in  spirits ;  fears  he  will  never  regain  his  strength.  We  can  only  hope  and 
pray  for  the  best. 

While  undergoing  a  mild  form  of  treatment  at  the  establish- 
ment at  Malvern,  Mr.  Shaler  made  use  of  this  health-giving 
resort  as  a  place  of  departure  for  excursions  to  the  surrounding 
towns.  He  also  journeyed  to  Scotland,  making  a  point  of 
visiting  certain  classic  geological  localities,  noting  with  special 
interest  the  glacial  scratches  which  many  years  before  had 
yielded  his  master,  Agassiz,  such  joy  as  indisputable  proof  of 
his  glacial  theory,  viz.,  that  a  great  ice  period  had  covered  the 
surface  of  the  earth  with  a  sheet  of  ice  extending  at  least  from 
the  North  Pole  to  central  Europe  and  Asia.  Besides  the  asso- 
ciation with  Agassiz,  Scotland  was  the  home  of  Hutton,  that 
man  of  genius  whose  "immortal  theory"  of  the  earth  made  a 
turning-point  in  the  history  of  geology;  his  conception  that 
the  past  history  of  the  globe  must  be  explained  by  what  can  be 
seen  to  be  happening  at  present  struck  a  responsive  chord  in 
Mr.  Shaler's  mental  attitude  towards  nature.  Arthur's  Seat  and 
Salisbury  Crags,  with  their  records  of  ancient  volcanic  eruptions, 


266  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

naturally  attracted  him,  as  well  as  the  noted  localities  where 
proofs  of  the  erosive  power  of  running  water  were  to  be  seen. 
The  Scottish  itinerary  included  Edinburgh,  Glasgow,  Sterling, 
Loch  Lomond,  and  other  places  usually  haunted  by  sight-seers. 

May  23.  —  With  his  thoughts  as  much  centred  upon  Richard  Ill's  war- 
like exploits  at  Tewkesbury,  as  upon  the  venerable  abbey,  Mr.  Shaler  and 
I  took  the  third-class  car,  filled  with  good-looking  country  folk,  for  that 
place.  It  happened  to  be  election  day,  and  men  and  women  were  gathered 
in  groups  at  the  corners  of  the  quaint  old  streets  through  which  we  passed. 
On  the  way  from  the  station  to  the  abbey,  he  heard  a  woman  say  to  her 
friend,  "  We  are  having  a  jolly  time!  did  you  know,  already  one  man  has  been 
thrown  out  of  a  second-story  window  and  got  smashed  to  pieces."  While 
walking  up  the  beautiful  avenue  leading  to  the  entrance,  we  noticed  in  the 
graveyard  close  at  hand  a  lot  of  rosy-faced  children  frolicking  among  the 
tombstones.  In  contrast  with  these  grim  tokens  of  age  and  decay  they 
looked  as  bright  and  as  ephemeral  as  butterflies  living  their  happy  day.  At 
the  door  a  number  of  visitors  were  waiting  to  get  in,  and  although  search 
had  been  made  for  the  beadle,  and  even  the  vicar's  house  had  been  besieged 
for  the  keys,  there  seemed  no  way  of  gaining  admission,  for  while  the  inner 
door  stood  open,  an  outside  wooden  gate  barred  the  entrance.  After  knock- 
ing loudly  to  awaken  the  custodian,  who,  it  was  thought,  might  be  napping 
in  the  peace  of  his  vast  surroundings,  Mr.  Shaler,  unwilling  to  be  balked, 
examined  the  gate;  and  then,  calling  for  assistance,  to* the  astonishment 
of  the  custom-hardened  natives,  he  lifted  it  off  its  hinges  and  triumphantly 
led  the  party  into  the  very  heart  of  the  sanctuary.  Within,  unmarshaled 
and  undisciplined,  we  wandered  through  the  aisles  of  this  twelfth-century 
Norman  church,  stopping  here  and  there  to  look  at  the  tombs  of  the  old 
knights,  their  effigies  reposing  at  full  length.  Lost  in  this  ancient  world, 
suddenly  we  were  brought  back  into  the  present  by  angry  words,  seemingly 
hurled  from  the  far-off  door,  reverberating  and  multiplying  themselves 
through  the  lofty  spaces.  Attracted  thither,  we  observed  the  other  sight- 
seers, less  smitten  with  the  ancient  glory,  trying  to  get  past  the  avenging 
beadle,  who  stood  with  outstretched  hands  beside  the  barred  doorway 
demanding  one  shilling  from  each  intruder.  Appreciating  the  joke,  Mr. 
Shaler  rewarded  him  liberally  for  his  share  in  the  breach  of  beadle  etiquette ; 
and  after  the  others  had  gone,  by  his  praises  of  the  great  abbey,  he  so  cooled 
the  wrath  within  the  ^-dropping  servitor  that  the  man  volunteered  to  go 
back  and  reveal  some  treasures  hidden  from  the  eyes  of  the  thrifty.  At  last, 
exhausted  by  the  bounty  of  the  show,  we  were  glad  to  escape.  While  sitting 
outside  on  a  tombstone,  waiting  for  the  "fly,"  Mr.  Shaler  made  a  sketch  of 


HEREFORD  AND  THE  WYE  267 

the  abbey,  drawing  in  the  flowers  growing  in  the  high-up  window  of  one 
of  the  towers.  These  flowers  looked  as  if  they  had  been  planted  by  human 
hands,  and  we  expected  to  see  a  tonsured  monk  with  emaciated  features 
(the  pictorial  monk)  look  out  upon  the  objects  of  his  care;  but  no  such 
spectral  vision  greeted  the  eye.  The  tower  evidently  was  the  home  of  no 
human  joy  or  sorrow.  Nevertheless  N.  insisted  upon  spoiling  the  sketch  by 
filling  up  one  window  with  a  broad-faced  monk. 

Friday.  —  The  drive  in  an  open  carriage  to  Hereford  led  through  a  coun- 
try of  bounteous  aspect.  The  apple  orchards  confirmed  what  we  had  heard 
about  the  quantity  and  quality  of  Herefordshire  cider.  The  exterior  of  the 
cathedral  was  not  especially  impressive ;  but  the  choir  and  the  Lady  chapel 
were  exceedingly  beautiful,  and  Mr.  Shaler  was  particularly  impressed  by 
the  mighty  Norman  piers,  whose  capitals  were  more  richly  carved  than  any 
he  had  seen,  also  by  the  old  map  of  the  world,  made  about  1310.  The 
secluded  and  peaceful  garden  stretching  along  the  Wye  led  N.  to  say 
he  would  like  to  come  and  live  the  rest  of  his  days  under  the  shelter  of  the 
great  cathedral,  but  then,  he  added,  "I  dare  say  familiarity,  gossip,  and 
petty  cares  would  soon  reduce  even  this  venerable  pile  to  the  level  of  the 
commonplace."  We  were  very  tired  and  went  to  the  "Green  Dragon," 
where,  paying  no  modest  price  for  tea,  bread,  and  butter,  N.  remarked  that 
all  English  hotels  should  be  dedicated  to  the  Golden  Fleece. 

July  3.  —  We  rose  early  and  started  for  a  trip  down  the  Wye.  The  third- 
class  car  was  crowded  with  soldiers  and  market-men.  We  concluded,  in  spite 
of  the  advice  of  English  friends,  to  avoid  the  third  class  in  the  future. 
Mr.  Shaler  said  if  he  could  only  rip  the  stuffing  out  of  the  first  class,  and 
insinuate  a  little  liveliness  into  it,  it  would  suit  him  better.  At  Ross  we 
engaged  a  boat  and  started  on  the  journey.  The  boatman  was  a  stolid  John 
Bull  who  only  became  talkative  as  the  time  for  his  tip  drew  near.  It  was 
not  long  before  the  rain  descended,  first  in  drops  and  then  in  torrents.  Nat 
and  I,  crowding  together  on  one  bench,  drew  up  the  waterproof  blanket, 
hoisted  the  umbrella,  and  sadly  prepared  to  enjoy  the  scenery  from  beneath 
the  eaves  of  our  shelter.  The  longer  the  boatman  rowed,  so  tortuous  is  the 
Wye,  the  farther  we  seemed  from  our  destination.  The  heavier  it  rained 
the  more  N.  tried  to  keep  up  our  spirits.  But  at  last  even  his  succumbed, 
and  we  stopped  at  an  inn  on  the  banks  of  the  river.  A  brief  lull  in  the  wind 
and  rain  gave  a  chance  to  reembark,  and  finally,  with  misty  recollections 
of  the  Wye,  Monmouth  was  attained.  At  the  Beaufort  Arms  a  fire  was 
ordered,  and  we  proceeded  to  dry  our  clothes  and  abuse  the  English  climate. 

We  arrived  at  York  Cathedral  just  in  time  for  the  afternoon  service. 
Sitting  in  the  great  nave,  we  listened  entranced  to  the  music.  Nat  was 


268  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

especially  pleased  with  the  grand  simplicity  of  this  great  shrine  and  with  the 
rich- toned  lancet  windows.  The  beadle  showered  information  upon  our 
sated  ears  and  strove  hard  to  earn  his  fee.  When  at  last  N.  asked  him  to  open 
the  door,  he  answered,  "I  will  do  so  with  pleasure;  I  have  been  shut  up  in 
this  cathedral  since  nine  o'clock  this  morning."  Alas,  it  was  little  better 
than  a  jail  to  him.  Nat  was  eager  to  get  to  the  old  walls  of  the  city.  There 
he  fought  over  the  Wars  of  the  Roses;  in  imagination  joined  the  warriors 
who  struggled  across  the  ditch  and  scaled  the  inner  defences.  He  called  upon 
the  Emperor  Severus  in  his  palace,  talked  with  Constantino  and  Caracalla. 
Altogether  he  voted  York  a  place  worth  seeing. 

At  Whitby  Mr.  Shaler  had  the  companionship  of  his  friend  Tawney,  and  to- 
gether they  did  some  splendid  geologizing,  filling  boxes  and  the  empty  corners 
of  my  trunks  with  fossils.  They  also  poked  fun  at  one  another  about  the  cus- 
toms of  their  respective  countries.  On  the  beach  the  boys  and  girls  played 
almost  in  a  state  of  nature;  the  women  wore  scant  gowns,  but  the  men 
appeared  in  the  uniform  of  Eden.  The  whole  scene,  N.  said,  reminded  him 
in  its  indecency  of  Naples.  In  revenge,  Tawney  picked  out  a  bespectacled, 
short-skirted,  heavily  shod  dame,  striding  along  with  a  cane  in  her  hand, 
as  a  typical  strong-minded  American  woman.  The  dispute  growing  warm, 
I  was  sent  to  follow  this  formidable  creature  and  find  out  what  part  of  the 
world  she  came  from.  Happily  she  sat  down  on  the  sand,  thus  giving  her 
pursuer  a  chance  to  catch  up,  and  after  a  few  minutes'  talk  it  was  possible 
to  relieve  Mr.  Shaler's  tension  of  mind  by  the  statement  that  she  was  to 
the  manner  born. 

At  Durham  we  climbed  the  hill  under  a  really  hot  sun  and  reached  the 
cathedral  tired  and  thirsty :  but  the  solemn  stillness  and  the  coolness  within 
made  the  pain  seem  small  and  the  pleasure  infinite.  The  massive  pillars 
appealed  to  Nat's  love  of  all  that  is  strong ;  indeed  he  seemed  more  sensitive 
than  usual  to  the  beauty  of  the  edifice,  although,  if  he  were  an  architect  by 
profession,  he  could  not  take  more  interest  in  the  structure  and  ornamenta- 
tion of  these  great  ecclesiastical  buildings.  Since  the  service  was  about  to 
begin,  fearing  that  the  magnificent  ritual  would  be  spoiled  in  the  manner  we 
had  sometimes  heard  by  a  sing-song  delivery,  he  suggested  that  we  go  out- 
side. Without,  we  looked  for  the  swans  that  one  sees  in  the  pictures  of  the 
great  cathedral,  and,  behold,  there  they  were,  those  arched-necked  creatures 
showing  plain  upon  the  dark  waters  of  the  river.  As  usual  at  such  places, 
we  sat  on  a  tombstone  and,  besides  watching  the  swans,  watched  the  pious 
folk  that  came  to  the  vesper  service,  and  soon  the  music  floated  out  upon 
the  stillness.  When  it  ceased,  N.  beckoned  to  a  small  boy  hovering  near  with 


DURHAM  SPRING-WATER  269 

the  hope  of  winning  a  penny  and  sent  him  down  to  the  town  for  a  cab ;  another 
he  bribed  to  bring  a  jug  of  water  from  the  famous  spring  close  by.  "This 
cool,  sweet  water,"  he  said,  "should  be  drunk  out  of  a  gourd  and  from 
a  cedar  bucket."  "Ah!"  said  his  companion,  "you  forget  you  are  not  in 
Kentucky." 


CHAPTER  XX 

FIELD    WORK 

1873-1879 

WHILE  he  was  in  England,  Mr.  Shaler's  friends  at  home  sug- 
gested to  the  Governor  of  Kentucky  that  he  be  invited  to  take 
charge  of  the  Kentucky  Geological  Survey,  which  was  about  to 
be  set  on  foot  again  after  some  years  of  interruption.  Among 
the  many  other  letters  sent  in  his  behalf  the  two  given  below 
show  in  what  esteem  he  was  held  by  those  competent  to  judge 
of  his  qualifications. 

CAMBRIDGE,  MASS.,  April  22d,  1873. 

To  His  EXCELLENCY  PRESTON  H.  LESLIE,  Governor  of  Kentucky. 

Dear  Sir:  —  I  am  so  thoroughly  convinced  that  it  would  be  a  good  fortune 
for  your  state  to  secure  the  services  of  Professor  N.  S.  Shaler  as  Geologist 
to  direct  your  survey,  that  though  he  is  absent  and  I  know  nothing  of  his 
intentions  I  take  the  liberty  of  calling  your  attention  to  his  eminent  abilities 
and  perfect  qualifications  for  such  work. 

I  have  known  Mr.  Shaler  from  the  time  he  first  began  to  study  the  natural 
and  physical  sciences.  He  has  been  my  pupil  and  afterwards  my  assistant 
for  about  ten  years,  and  more  recently  my  fellow  professor  in  our  Scientific 
School  in  Harvard  University.  He  is  not  only  a  thorough  student  and  a 
skilful  practical  observer,  but  his  ready  perception  of  the  relations  of  facts 
eminently  qualifies  him  to  direct  an  extensive  geological  survey ;  and  your 
state  is  so  constituted  geologically  as  to  require  the  fullest  preparation  and  the 
best  ability  in  the  man  who  shall  explore  it  successfully. 

With  great  regard,  very  respectfully  yours,        L.  AGASSIZ. 

CAMBRIDGE,  MASS.,  June  30, 1873. 
To  His  EXCELLENCY  PRESTON  H.  LESLIE,  Governor  of  Kentucky. 

Dear  Sir:  —  Since  the  receipt  of  your  letter  [asking  for  the  assistance  of 
the  Coast  Survey]  of  the  16th  instant,  I  have  daily  expected  the  return  of 
Professor  Shaler  from  Europe,  but  cannot  longer  forego  the  pleasure  of  ex- 


KENTUCKY  GEOLOGICAL  SURVEY     271 

pressing  my  own  gratification  at  the  appointment  of  that  able  man  as  State 
Geologist  of  Kentucky,  and  of  assuring  you,  as  I  will  also  assure  him,  that 
such  cooperation  as  may  be  practicable  in  geodetic  operations  by  parties 
of  the  Coast  Survey  will  be  cheerfully  directed. 

Very  respectfully  yours,  BENJAMIN  PEIRCE, 

Supt.  U.  S.  Coast  Survey. 

The  request  that  he  become  the  director  of  the  Survey  was 
sent  to  Mr.  Shaler  and  accepted  while  he  was  out  of  the  coun- 
try. Agassiz  again  writes :  - 

CAMBRIDGE,  MASS.,  June  9th,  1873. 

...  It  never  rains  but  it  pours.  No  sooner  was  the  conference  committee 
of  the  House  and  Senate  agreed  to  let  me  have  $25,000  with  the  conditions 
so  amended  that  I  could  match  it  with  $25,000  already  paid  in  than  my 
son-in-law,  Q.  A.  Shaw,  and  my  daughter,  Pauline,  presented  me  with 
$100,000.  What  I  have,  of  course,  goes  to  the  Museum,  only  in  this  case  I 
have  not  to  consult  either  board  of  trustees,  or  corporation,  or  faculty.  It 
makes  me  very  happy,  as  I  now  see  my  way  to  give  a  tremendous  impulse 
to  the  Museum,  and  I  want  you  to  make  sure  that  there  is  nothing  in  Eng- 
land left  unnoticed  that  may  benefit  it. 

And  now  another  question.  Are  you  going  to  accept  the  direction  of  the 
Geological  Survey  of  Kentucky?  In  your  place  I  would,  but  without  giving 
up  your  connection  with  our  University.  I  think  it  would  not  be  difficult 
to  bring  this  about;  and  I  will  at  once  go  to  work  in  that  direction  if  you 
say  so.  ... 

From  the  same :  — 

PENIKESE  ISLAND,  Aug.  17th,  1873. 

...  I  lament  that  your  visit  to  the  Anderson  School  has  been  so  short. 
I  hoped  for  many  weeks  of  your  presence  to  help  in  the  work,  instead  of 
which  you  have  given  us  only  a  few  hours.  But  I  understand  that  at  present 
your  whole  time  belongs  to  the  Geological  Survey  of  your  native  state. 
Before  you  leave  Massachusetts,  however,  there  is  one  thing  I  want  to  say 
to  you:  that  whatever  the  Museum  of  Comparative  Zoology  affords  of  re- 
sources which  may  foster  an  undertaking  like  that  now  committed  to  your 
care  shall  be  at  your  disposal,  whether  you  need  specimens  for  comparison 
or  men  to  carry  on  the  work,  and  whenever  I  can  be  personally  useful,  you 
need  never  hesitate  to  call  upon  me. 

There  are  already  several  subjects  of  special  scientific  interest  which  I 
would  particularly  recommend  to  your  attention  as  likely  to  contribute  to 


272  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

the  advancement  of  our  knowledge  in  general,  and  the  proper  solution  of 
which  may  not  be  without  practical  importance.  I  name,  first,  the  study 
of  the  fishes  of  all  your  rivers  separately.  Now  that  pisciculture  has  become 
an  art  of  great  practical  importance  an  investigation  into  the  distribution 
of  your  fishes  would  furnish  an  essential  basis  for  the  introduction  of  such 
species  as  may  be  of  greater  economical  value  than  those  which  naturally 
inhabit  your  waters.  .  .  . 

Although  Mr.  Shaler  could  spend  but  little  time  at  Penikese, 
his  interest  in  the  theory  and  practice  of  summer  schools  never 
abated.  The  idea  of  establishing  a  Summer  School  of  Geology 
was  persistently  advanced  until,  after  much  discouragement, 
he  succeeded  in  putting  on  a  permanent  basis  this  form  of 
teaching  at  Harvard  University  —  a  system  now  in  operation 
throughout  the  country.  Some  of  his  friends  were  disturbed 
lest  he  fail  of  the  credit  due  him  for  the  idea,  a  matter  about 
which,  however,  he  was  indifferent.  The  following  extract  is 
from  a  letter  written  by  a  friend  in  Cambridge  in  the  spring  of 
1873,  before  he  came  back  from  England. 

.  .  .  And  now  about  this  summer  school  of  natural  history  and  the  island 
which  old  "fine  cut"  John  Anderson  has  given  to  Agassiz.  Your  friends 
think  you  ought  to  be  on  the  ground  when  the  thing  is  started  even  if  you 
go  back  to  Europe  as  soon  as  the  first  term  is  over.  ...  It  looks  very  much 
as  if  the  "big  wigs"  and  their  satellites  will  rush  in  and  bear  away  all  the 
credit  of  the  idea  and  as  none  of  them  know  anything  about  "outdoor" 
teaching  it  will  end  in  failure.  It  is  true  that  at  the  tail  end  of  one  of  his 

letters did  admit  that  his  young  friend  Shaler  had  originated  the  idea. 

Now  ...  if  you  wish  to  start  the  thing  in  accordance  with  your  ideas,  it 
would  seem  to  me  that  you  ought  to  be  here  at  the  opening  so  as  to  take 
your  proper  place  in  the  management.  ...  It  makes  me  indignant  when  I 
see  other  people  stealing  your  thunder.  One  thing  though  you  must  let  me 
insist  on,  and  that  is,  you  must  run  no  risks  in  the  way  of  health,  and  in  this 
matter  I  would  much  rather  trust  to  Mrs.  Shaler's  opinion  than  your  own. 
If  the  worst  should  come,  you  can  fight  the  thing  a  year  or  so  hence. 

Notwithstanding  his  friend's  uneasiness,  Mr.  Shaler's  instruc- 
tion in  geology,  including  the  Summer  School,  in  the  course  of 
time  became  so  far  developed  and  perfected  as  to  meet  with 
wide  recognition. 


A  SUMMER  SCHOOL  273 

Soon  after  his  return  to  America  he  took  up  the  survey  work 
with  great  zest  and  carried  it  on  successfully  at  two  different 
periods.  He  enlisted  the  ablest  men  he  could  get  as  assistants, 
and  trained  a  body  of  aids  to  the  point  where  they  became 
successful  workers  in  that  and  other  fields. 

In  the  summer-time  he  carried  on  a  Summer  School  for 
Harvard  men,  camping  in  such  localities  as  seemed  fittest  for 
the  advancement  of  the  survey  as  well  as  for  the  training  of  the 
students.  He  invited  some  of  the  foremost  scientific  men  of  the 
day  to  visit  the  camp  and  give  inspiration  by  their  presence  to 
the  undertaking.  A  number  of  teachers  from  other  colleges 
attended  the  school,  which  for  two  seasons  was  held  at  Cumber- 
land Gap.  Among  the  guests  were  a  few  dilettantes,  a  sprink- 
ling of  politicians,  and  some  women;  these  elements  made 
something  of  the  nature  of  a  lark  of  the  occasion.  But  while 
there  was  a  share  of  festivity,  the  camp  was  by  no  means  a 
Castle  of  Indolence.  There  were  the  early  departure  and  the  late 
return  —  with  the  different  states  of  mind  shown  in  the  accom- 
panying illustration.  Furthermore,  there  was  no  exemption 
from  the  various  vicissitudes  of  camp  life,  —  the  long  spell  of 
rainy  weather,  the  occasional  short  rations,  the  missing  cook. 
The  last  was  a  good-natured,  much-liked  "native,"  whose  labors 
were  interrupted  by  being  called  to  court  to  give  a  reckoning 
for  his  third  murder.  The  excuse  offered,  however,  was  deemed 
sufficient  to  ensure  his  liberty.  According  to  Jim's  account,  his 
victim  (his  father-in-law)  was  "a  mighty  pesterin'  ole  man." 
Among  the  lighter  incidents  was  the  rattlesnake  episode. 
The  students  having  advertised  their  desire  to  purchase  rattle- 
snakes to  be  "pickled,"  in  other  words  to  be  preserved  in  alco- 
hol, forthwith  the  hills  and  valleys  were  ransacked  by  the 
"natives"  for  the  largest  and  most  vicious  of  their  kind.  The 
best  brought  at  first  as  much  as  five  dollars  apiece;  but  after  a 
while  the  supply  increased  beyond  the  demand,  there  was  a 
glut,  and  the  price  fell  as  low  as  twenty-five  cents.  At  this  un- 
favorable stage  of  the  market  a  belated  merchant  of  reptiles 


274     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

brought  to  camp,  confined  in  a  loosely  put  together  wooden 
box,  one  of  the  largest  and  fiercest  specimens  that  had  been 
caught  for  a  long  time.  Mr.  Shaler  happening  to  meet  the  old 
man  first,  told  him  he  was  too  late,  and  advised  him  to  kill  the 
snake.  Nevertheless  he  persisted  in  going  the  rounds  in  the  hope 
of  selling  his  commodity.  In  the  hurry  of  getting  off  on  the 
day's  tramp  he  was  brusquely  pushed  aside  by  the  young  men 
and  doubtless  soon  forgotten.  Finally  when  the  camp  was 
deserted  by  its  militant  element  he  was  observed  sitting  discon- 
solately on  a  rock  gazing  at  the  prisoner  in  the  box,  whereupon 
one  of  the  timid  sex  approached  and  asked  what  he  was  going 
to  do  with  the  reptile.  "I'm  er  goin'  to  let  him  loose,"  was  his 
reply.  "Surely  not  here."  "Yes,  jist  right  hyur,  er  long  sides 
them  tents.  I  worked  tumble  hard  to  get  that  thar  sarpent  ; 
walked  nigh  on  to  fourteen  miles  over  the  mountain,  an'  now 
I'm  goin'  to  have  my  five  dollars  or  knowther  reason  why." 
"Come  down  to  my  tent,"  said  the  alarmed  questioner,  "and 
let's  talk  about  it  over  a  cup  of  coffee."  The  order  was  given 
to  bring  the  refreshment,  which,  next  to  home-made  whiskey, 
was  the  most  loved  by  the  "native,"  but  in  the  presence  of  the 
dormant  terror  it  seemed  ages  before  it  appeared. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  mountaineer  was  enticed  into  telling 
his  adventures  —  his  moonlight  search  for  medicinal  herbs,  the 
circumstances  under  which  "he  brought  down  his  men,"  and 
other  details  of  family  feuds.  At  last  the  pot  of  coffee,  together 
with  bread  and  bacon,  came,  and  the  feast  began.  With  each 
fresh  cup,  though  the  vaunted  superiority  of  the  snake  in- 
creased, the  price  fell  until  at  last  it  seemed  likely  to  stick  at 
three  dollars.  At  this  stage  of  the  negotiation  some  tobacco 
was  produced  and  the  stiff  trader  persuaded  to  fill  his  pipe. 
After  a  few  whiffs,  he  exclaimed,  looking  lovingly  at  his  trophy, 
"He's  the  gamest  ever  I  seed.  I  reckon  he's  got  pison  enough 
in  them  thar  fangs  of  his'n  ter  kill  nigh  on  ter  er  dozen  folks. 
Yes,  I  tell  you  he's  jes  'er  bustin'  ter  git  arter  them  studen's, 
and  what's  more,  all  the  whiskey  in  creation,  nor  lard  nuther, 


A  RATTLESNAKE  EPISODE  275 

could  n't  cure  his  bite.  He's  er  he  snake,  as  strong  as  Samsin,  I 
reckon,  an'  es  lively  es  er  kitten :  but  I  say,  stranger  [lowering 
his  voice],  es  long  es  it's  er  woman  who's  er  dickeren  I'll  take 
two  dollars  cash.  What  do  yer  say  to  that?"  At  length  the 
price  of  one  dollar  for  the  snake  and  the  killing  of  it  was 
agreed  upon.  Without  further  delay  the  slats  were  torn  off  the 
box  and  the  bewildered  mass  of  venom  dumped  upon  the 
ground,  and  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  the  hiss  of  a  hickory 
stick  announced  that  the  end  had  come.  Stretched  out  at  full 
length  upon  the  ground  to  show  how  big  a  bargain  had  been 
got,  the  creature  measured  nearly  six  feet.  He  was  un- 
doubtedly a  superb  specimen ;  all  the  same  he  was  hung  up  as 
a  warning  and  no  more  snakes  of  his  particular  breed  were 
brought  into  camp. 

These  trifles  emerge  from  the  dim  corners  of  memory;  the 
really  significant  events  and  the  important  investigations  are 
recorded  in  the  exhaustive  reports  of  the  Survey.  Under  Mr. 
Shaler's  directorship  its  scope  could  not  be  otherwise  than  wide. 
One  of  the  aims  most  successfully  carried  out  was  to  show  the 
state  in  his  own  actions  the  determination  and  devotion  that 
should  be  given  to  all  undertakings  which  affect  the  welfare 
of  the  commonwealth.  In  addition  to  the  usual  scientific  work, 
or  rather  in  connection  with  it,  a  general  description  of  the 
state  —  its  geography,  geology,  and  zoology,  and  its  material 
resources  of  all  kinds  —  was  prepared  in  conformity  with  an 
emigration  bill  which  he  drew  up  for  the  Legislature.  In  the 
directing  of  the  survey  he  kept  his  eyes  pretty  steadily  fixed 
upon  the  development  of  possible  business  enterprises,  and  with 
this  end  in  view  furnished  special  information  to  capitalists.  A 
very  successful  exhibit  of  the  products  of  Kentucky  was  made 
at  the  Philadelphia  Centennial  Exhibition,  which  attracted  wide 
attention. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  work  was  laborious,  involving  at 
all  seasons  of  the  year  journeys  within  the  state  and  to  and 
from  Cambridge,  for  Mr.  Shaler  still  discharged  his  college 


276     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

duties.  There  were  also  the  usual  troubles  with  the  Legislature 
concerning  appropriations,  which  varied  from  ten  to  twelve 
thousand  dollars  a  year,  —  sums  so  small  as  to  cramp  the 
efficiency  of  the  Survey  and  to  lead  to  occasional  outbursts  of 
indignation  on  the  part  of  those  in  service.  One  gentleman  of 
influence  writes,  "If  we  had  a  little  more  intelligence  among 
those  who  push  themselves  into  public  places  there  would  be 
much  more  real  economy."  His  most  constant  annoyance  was 
with  regard  to  the  pay  of  assistants.  He  himself  often  advanced 
out  of  his  own  pocket  money  for  field  expenses  and  even  to  meet 
family  exigencies,  such  as  a  marriage,  a  birth,  or  a  death. 
Besides  the  many  legitimate  cares  of  the  office,  in  connection 
with  it  was  the  fearful  American  waste  of  high  intellectual 
powers  upon  petty  details  which,  under  a  better  clerical  system, 
would  be  left  to  men  of  inferior  grade.  (In  regard  to  this  matter 
the  writer  once  heard  an  English  professor  of  eminence  say, 
after  a  visit  to  Mr.  Shaler's  office  in  Cambridge,  that  he  had 
been  struck  in  America  with  the  absence  of  trained  assistants 
and  the  amount  of  clerical  work  done  by  college  teachers.) 
Letters  addressed  to  Mr.  Shaler  at  this  time  abound  with  such 
questions  as,  "What  shall  I  do  with  Mollie,  the  mare?  Shall  I 
use  her  or  hire  a  team?  "  "  How  much  will  you  take  for  the  wagon 
and  harness  belonging  to  the  Survey?  I  have  a  brother  who 
is  going  to  move  to  Texas.  He  is  very  poor  and  unless  you  put  it 
at  very  low  figures  he  will  not  take  it,"  etc.  And  then  come 
requests  of  the  following  order:  "Please  send  at  once  three 
tents,  some  camp-stools,  and  blankets." 

While  there  were  annoyances,  there  were  also  agreeable  epi- 
sodes—  the  pleasure  derived  from  an  extended  acquaintance 
with  the  people  and  with  the  rich  resources  of  his  native  state. 
In  the  introduction  to  his  first  report  Mr.  Shaler  writes :  — 

The  thanks  of  the  Survey  are  due  to  the  generous  citizens,  whose  names 
are  too  numerous  for  mention,  who,  by  their  unfailing  kindness,  have  aided 
every  step  of  its  work.  My  own  gratitude  is  due,  in  large  measure,  to  the 


THE  WORK  OF  THE  SURVEY  277 

officers  of  the  Survey,1  who,  by  their  unfaltering  diligence,  have  made  it 
possible  for  me  to  do  far  more  than  I  expected  to  accomplish  with  the  limited 
means  that  have  been  at  my  command. 

It  is  but  justice  to  the  Survey  to  say,  that  the  means  at  its  disposal  have 
been  exceedingly  limited.  The  total  amount  appropriated  for  all  the  ex- 
penses of  the  years  1874  and  1875  was  thirty-three  thousand  five  hundred 
dollars.  Out  of  this  sum  must  come  the  costs  of  maintaining  a  force  averag- 
ing twelve  assistants  and  aids,  the  expenses  of  the  state  cabinet,  of  exhibi- 
tions at  Louisville,  a  chemical  laboratory,  the  outfit  of  camps,  instruments, 
etc.,  and  all  the  expenses  of  preparing  the  results  for  publication,  including 
the  making  of  lithographic  and  stereotype  plates.  Only  the  most  rigorous 
economy  has  made  it  possible  to  do  the  large  amount  of  field  work  that  has 
been  done  during  the  last  two  years ;  and  this  saving  has  been  brought  about 
by  the  devotion  and  self-sacrifice  of  my  coadjutors  of  the  Survey,  who  have 
not  only  been  willing  to  labor  for  small  compensations,  but  have  unhesitat- 
ingly adapted  themselves  to  the  rude  and  comfortless  life  which  has  neces- 
sarily been  followed  in  order  to  secure  economy  and  convenience  in  the  work. 

What  Mr.  Shaler  thought  of  the  general  conditions  of  Ken- 
tucky is  set  forth  in  a  less  official  manner  in  a  letter  of  a  some- 
what earlier  date  written  to  an  English  friend. 

My  dear  Mr.  Lawrence: ...  I  am  so  sorry  that  you  could  not  come  to 
Kentucky.  It  is  by  far  the  richest  state  in  America,  and  although  the 
people  are  absurdly  conservative  yet  they  present  the  highest  type  of  rural 
life  which  the  country  affords,  the  only  region  which  would  remind  you  of 
the  best  parts  of  your  own  island.  .  .  . 

Mr.  Shaler  often  laughingly  alluded  to  an  experience  he  had  at 
this  time  with  the  War  Department  concerning  some  barometer 
straps.  It  was  a  case  of  red  tape  pushed  to  the  extreme  limits 
of  patience.  The  correspondence  began  in  1875  and  was  con- 
cluded in  1877.  On  the  back  of  a  communication  from  the  War 
Department  which  had  travelled  from  one  official  to  another 
is  written,  "  What  straps  was  he  accountable  for?  Answer :  — 
Barom.  straps  nos.  2  &  24  sent  from  this  office  June  25,  1875." 
On  another:  "Shaler  N.  S.  says  he  is  unable  to  produce  the 

i  Some  of  these  officers  upon  whom  he  depended  most  were  C.  "W.  Beckham,  John  R. 
Proctor,  A.  R.  Crandell,  P.  M.  Moore,  W.  B.  Page,  C.  J.  Norwood,  besides  a  number  of 
valuable  assistants. 


278     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

straps  referred  to  in  communication  of  30th,  but  says  he  will 
either  replace  them  with  money  or  other  straps."  Still  another 
bears  the  question:  "What  is  the  cost  of  straps? "  Mr.  Shaler 
himself  writes  to  H.  W.  Howgate,  War  Office :  — 

Sir:  —  The  straps  referred  to  in  your  favor  of  the  30th,  which  the  mail 
has  just  brought  to  me,  were  loaned  by  your  office  to  the  surveyor  sent  to 
your  office  to  bring  to  my  camp  certain  barometers,  etc.  At  the  time  I  sup- 
posed that  they  were  included  with  the  instruments,  for  which  I  gave  receipt, 
and  which  have  since  been  accounted  for.  I  am  now  unable  to  identify  them 
in  the  property  of  the  Kentucky  Survey  and  must  ask  you  to  allow  me  to 
give  you  an  equivalent  in  money  or  in  other  straps  made  according  to  your 
orders  in  Washington.  I  regret  this  mischance,  but  in  my  little  survey  there 
is  no  means  for  keeping  a  careful  account  of  small  items  of  property;  the 
state  having  failed  to  provide  me  with  even  a  single  clerk. 

Very  respectfully,  N.  S.  SHALER, 

Director  of  the  Survey  of  Kentucky. 

And  at  last  came  the  first  endorsement :  — 

WASHINGTON,  D.  C.,  Aug.  9, 1877. 
War  Department,  Office  Chief  Signal  Officer. 

Respectfully  return  to  Prof:  N.  S.  Shaler,  with  the  information  that  the 
cost  of  these  straps  to  the  Service  is  $3.00  each. 

H.  W.  HOWGATE. 

The  extracts  below  from  other  letters  written  by  Mr.  Shaler 
at  different  periods  while  in  charge  of  the  Survey,  furnish  a  clue 
to  his  undertakings  and  indirectly  to  his  opinions  upon  many 
subjects. 

FRANKFORT,  Aug.  22nd,  '73. 

...  I  wrote  you  yesterday  and  telegraphed.  I  now  with  sleepy  eyes  will 
try  and  give  you  a  word  about  the  day  which  has  gone.  I  slept  at  home.  They 
are  all  well,  and  the  house  is  cool  and  charming.  ...  I  arose  at  4  A.  M.  to 
take  train  for  Lexington;  came  at  1.40  to  Frankfort.  Saw  the  Governor,  a 
plain,  blunt  man,  but  seems  direct  and  satisfactory.  He  says  the  Legisla- 
ture is  in  a  humor  for  work  and  will  give  the  money  necessary  for  its  doing. 
I  am  better  pleased  with  Kentucky  than  with  Ohio ;  the  surface  is  beautiful, 
horses  charming,  ditto  cows,  men  able-bodied,  women  often  have  a  high- 
bred air.  ...  It  is  very  hot  — stifling,  old-fashioned  heat.  The  street  is 


TRAVELLING  IN  KENTUCKY  279 

shaded  and  full  of  fireflies  and  bats.  A  negro  band  over  the  way  is  tortur- 
ing a  tune,  starting  bravely  but  getting  thrown  every  time,  quarreling,  but 
returning  to  the  charge.  The  house  is  as  large  as  the  Revere  and  really  fine 

in  its  sturdy  stone  strength.  Old  Col.  T is  dead,  some  friends  have 

moved  away,  others  have  gone  to  the  still  place  on  the  hill,  so  I  feel  like  an 
old  man.  I  am  pretty  well  but  dreadfully  tired  and  homesick.  .  .  . 

Sunday  Evening. 

...  So  far  I  have  made  a  decent  headway  with  my  work,  getting  things 
in  reasonable  train.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the  work  is  not  above  my 
powers,  provided  new  sources  of  chafe  do  not  disclose  themselves.  .  .  . 

NEWPORT,  Aug.  30. 

.  .  .  I  am  still  here,  but  go  to-morrow  to  see  the  Governor  again  and  to  get 
some  information  unobtainable  by  letter.  I  feel  better  to-day  than  for  some 
days  and  think  I  can  live  along  here  provided  you  and  the  little  ones  come 
soon.  Remember  my  hammer,  and  please  pack  Herbert  Spencer's  works. 

Tell  M to  come  along  to  Grayson  Springs;  he  will  have  already  done  so, 

if  he  is  not  a  fool.  If  you  can,  start  on  Monday.  Fee  the  car  servants  well 
and  make  them  assist  at  the  transfers.  I  would  come  for  you  but  I  fear  the 
journey  would  use  me  up. 

RIVERTON,  KY.,  Oct.  21, 1873. 

.  .  .  The  steamboat  left  me  here  at  2  p.  M.  in  fair  condition.  The  boat 
had  no  staterooms  but  piled  the  passengers  into  two-storied  cots  in  one 
common  room.  A  cargo  of  pigs  down  stairs  sang  a  duet  with  the  snorers 

above.   However  withal  I  am  pretty  well.   I  found  C waiting  for  me, 

which  has  saved  me  some  running  about.  ...  I  shall  write  again  to-morrow 
to  tell  you  just  what  my  plans  are,  if  I  am  so  fortunate  as  to  know  them  my- 
self. Be  assured  I  shall  do  my  best  to  get  home  Saturday  night.  .  .  . 

Mouth  of  the  Cumberland  River,  '73. 

...  I  came  here  this  morning  and  got  a  little  rest  from  the  questions 
of  the  public  —  have  been  at  it  all  day  again.  We  have  had  a  charming  day 
full  of  spring  balm.  I  like  the  people  —  not  industrious,  but  decent  and  law- 
abiding  in  their  way;  they  treat  me  kindly  and  considerately.  ...  I  am 
pretty  well  and  not  very  tired.  I  have  shut  out  the  populace,  and  fortunately 
there  is  a  murder  trial  on  hand  which  diverts  attention  from  "bating"  the 
state  geologists,  which  has  become  a  favorite  amusement  in  the  state.  One 
of  the  worthy  citizens  goes  with  me  to-morrow  to  Marion  and  Princeton,  so  I 
have  good  company. 

I  was  congratulating  myself  on  the  quiet  evening  when  in  came  (without 


280  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

knocking)  seven  interviewers  to  sit  an  hour.  They  mean  well  and  are  kind, 
but  there  are  too  many  people  in  the  world. 

PRINCETON  [no  date]. 

.  .  .  This  is  rather  a  spry  little  town,  clean  and  paved.  The  country,  how- 
ever, is  somewhat  God-forsaken ;  no  milk  to  be  had.  When  one  leaves  the  blue- 
grass  land  one  fares  hardly.  I  think  of  taking  a  goat  along  —  your  favorite 
plan.  ...  I  am  sorry  to  see  there  is  no  end  of  Kentucky  in  this  direction. 
This  world  is  a  deal  too  big,  and  we  have  too  much  of  it;  thank  God  it  is 
shrinking  and  in  time  will  be  a  nice  tight  little  world.  I  am  so  tired  that  I 
feel  foolish  —  I  have  quite  talked  my  brain  into  an  addled  state. 

LEXINGTON,  Dec.  8th,  1873. 

...  I  had  a  dull  ride  to  La  Grange,  the  cars  were  crowded,  there  being 
the  whole  Fifth  Avenue  Troop  aboard.  Whether  it  was  the  weight  of  wit 
or  wickedness  that  made  us  fall  behind  time  I  cannot  say,  but  we  made 
slow  progress.  I  have  had  a  busy  day  talking  to  many  men  of  many  minds. 
It  is  not  going  to  be  easy  to  get  much  money ;  they  are  disposed  to  be  "  cheese- 
parers,"  these  legislators,  possibly  in  a  rattish  way.  It  seems  an  intelligent 
body  of  men,  much  above  the  old  average  of  ability.  I  shall  soon  know 
whether  they  are  disposed  to  do  well  by  the  Survey  or  no.  ...  I  have  only 
had  six  interruptions  since  I  began  this,  though  it  is  after  nine  o'clock,  so  I 
shall  have  to  put  out  my  light  and  go  to  sleep  in  order  to  secure  peace. 

FKANKFOET,  Feb.  11,  1874. 

.  .  .  The  Survey  matter  looks  rather  blue.  I  still  hope,  however,  that 
Monday  will  see  it  well  on  its  way  and  me  well  on  mine  to  Cambridge.  There 
are  all  sorts  of  cross-purposes  here  which  require  looking  after  almost  from 
hour  to  hour.  ...  I  have  never  been  so  impatient  of  delay ;  I  have  been  half 
sick  ever  since  I  came  here.  .  .  . 

CAMBRIDGE,  Friday  [no  date]. 

...  It  looks  as  if  I  might  be  kept  here  until  Sunday  or  Monday,  though  I 
shall  try  to  get  away  this  evening.  ...  I  have  arranged  with  Eliot  that 
if  I  come  back  next  autumn  I  am  to  have  the  post  of  geology  alone,  with  about 
half  the  work  I  did  before  and  a  salary  of  about  $3000.  I  can  reduce  the 
work  to  about  eight  hours  of  actual  work  each  week.  [This  of  course  he  did 
not  do.] 

March  30,  1874. 

...  A  silent  and  rather  sad  journey  down  the  Ohio :  fair  night's  sleep  and 
me  void  this  morning.  Have  done  a  good  day's  work,  cleaned  away  a  great 


DECIDED  TO  ROOST  HIGH 


LITHOGRAPHIC  CAVE 
FINDETH  A  SEW  SPECIES 


MISCALCULATES  THE  STRENGTH   OF  MATERIALS 


LITHOGRAPHIC   CAVE 

THERE'S  MANY  A  SLIP,"  ETC. 


CATCHING   EYELESS  FISH 

GEOLOGIZING  IN  SILHOUETTE 


/v        Jk~~- 

^JL^>  ^^ati^  "«*-«-L*&*rX*"    ^Sf^^3> 


LEAVING  CAMP  RETURNING  TO  CAMP 

7  A.  M.  7  P.  M. 


FOOTPRINTS 


I  SAY  !    MISTER  !     WILL  THAT  THING  SHOOT  ?  OUR  MINERALOGIST  THOUGHT  HE  'D  LIKE  TO 

TAKE  IT  AWAY!    IT  SKEERS  MY  CREETER  SEE  THE  MULE  HE  COULDN'T  DRIVE 


BEE    SPRING  CAMP 


GEOLOGIZING  IN  SILHOUETTE 


ON  THE  OHIO  281 

score  of  things,  am  tired  but  hope  for  a  good  night's  sleep  though  the  house 
is  noisy.  One  month  more  and  my  roving  will  be  done  so  far  as  Kentucky 
is  concerned  for  some  time.  Glory  for  that  when  it  comes.  .  .  . 

LOUISVILLE. 

...  I  arrived  here  in  tolerable  order  at  4  A.  M.  Have  just  had  a  good 
breakfast  and  am  much  set  up  thereby.  Not  much  trouble  from  my  cough, 
which  goes  to  show  that  knocking  about  agrees  with  me.  Please  take  the  map 
which  is  in  two  sheets,  —  a  map  from  the  Big  Sandy  to  Lexington,  —  and 
send  by  express.  Be  on  the  lookout  for  another  roll  of  traced  maps;  look  up 
accounts.  I  am  sorry  to  be  going  away,  but  I  shall  turn  my  way  home  as 
soon  as  possible.  .  .  . 

HAMILTON,  BOONE  COUNTY,  June,  1874. 

.  .  .  We  have  reached  this  place,  about  fifty  miles  from  Cincinnati  —  all 
well,  no  startling  adventures.  Can*  is  enjoying  himself,  having  taken 
greatly  to  the  tea,  of  which  he  is  a  famous  compounder;  each  brew  we  think 
of  you  and  bless  your  provident  care. 

I  see  already  the  great  profit  of  the  journey  in  this  fashion ;  I  have  made 
some  important  observations  which  had  quite  escaped  me  before.  We  are 
red  as  boiled  lobsters,  sore-handed,  but  both  quite  well.  No  miasm  observed. 
I  think  the  water  is  healthier  than  the  bank.  I  shall  write  each  day,  but  you 
may  not  get  letters  oftener  than  twice  a  week,  for  the  mails  are  rare  in  the 
small  towns. 

NORTH  BEND,  June  20, 1874. 

...  I  was  glad  you  were  so  considerate  as  to  send  me  the  overcoat,  etc. 
You  showed  a  fine  strategic  sense  in  your  plan  for  intercepting  us.  We  came 
quietly  but  slowly,  making  only  fifteen  miles  this  day.  ...  I  feel  wonder- 
fully better  for  the  exercise  of  rowing.  ...  I  am  delighted  with  the  chance 
we  get  to  see  and  to  collect.  .  .  .  The  teapot  works  well ;  we  had  a  good  brew 

on  the  boat,  and  C was  enchanted  with  the  onions.  To-morrow  we  hope 

to  make  thirty  miles.  I  am  sorry  the  river  takes  us  each  hour  farther  and 
farther  away.  .  .  . 

Camp  at  BEE  SPRING  [no  date]. 

...  A  plow-horse  and  plenty  of  timber  brought  me  here  before  dark  in 

excellent  appetite  for  our  camp  fare.  C has  several  skulls  and  is  as  happy 

as  a  Carib  therein.   The  tent  stands  water,  which  is  the  end  of  my  fears. 

S is  more  like  the  hero  in  "Chicken  Hazard"  than  ever.    P has 

made  some  happy  efforts  at  camp  illustration,  one  in  which  I  figure  hand- 
somely. You  shan't  see  them  (happy  thought)  unless  you  come  to  Grayson 
Springs.  I  shall  be  around  here  for  at  least  a  week,  but  unless  you  come 
by  next  Friday  I  shall  saddle  my  horse  and  go  deeper  into  the  woods. 


282  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

LlCHFIELD. 

...  I  came  here  yesterday  to  the  tune  of  continual  rain.  At  sundown 
came  a  clearing,  and  by  to-morrow  the  streams  will  be  f  ordable  and  the  roads 
in  a  measure  possible.  I  am  going  this  morning  to  look  for  the  young  men 
of  my  party.  I  shall  find  them  within  fifteen  miles  and  shall  have  my  business 
done.  ...  If  there  were  anything  like  the  railroad  system  of  England  here 
I  could  come  home  this  evening  and  back  on  Monday.  It  is  only  140  miles 
in  an  air  line,  but  it  inevitably  takes  18  hours  to  make  it.  So  one  is  really  no 
better  off  than  one  would  be  with  post  horses,  except  as  to  price.  Until 
the  children  are  old  enough  to  look  after  themselves  I  fear  we  cannot  go 
about  much  together,  but  it  will  be  a  compensation  for  advancing  years. 

MAMMOTH  CAVE  [no  date]. 

...  If  I  had  not  been  alone  I  should  have  enjoyed  myself  very  much 
the  last  ten  days  —  the  weather  has  been  delightful,  the  sky  and  earth  agree- 
ing with  each  other.  The  woods  are  in  all  the  tender  beauty  of  early  spring ; 
ferns  everywhere,  and  the  perfectly  dustless  conditions  are  admirable  for 
irritable  lungs;  and  the  cave  air,  uniform  and  clean,  is  so  good  that  one  even 
bears  the  want  of  light  with  patience.  I  should  feel  like  inventing  excuses 
to  stay  here  and  sending  for  you  were  it  not  that  there  is  no  milk  to  be  had. 
A  beautiful  illustration  of  Kentucky  thrift :  in  the  sixty  years  the  hotel  has 
been  here  it  has  not  cleared  enough  land  for  decent  pasturage.  Otherwise  the 
food  is  bearable.  .  .  . 

In  the  autumn  of  1874,  as  will  be  seen  from  the  letters 
given  below,  Mr.  Shaler's  outdoor  work,  chiefly  for  the  Coast 
Survey,  was  carried  on  in  New  England. 

Coast  Survey  Camp,  Sept.  23rd,  1874. 

...  I  arrived  here  in  good  order  and  had  a  comfortable  night's  sleep.  After 
all  I  am  tempted  to  bring  you  and  the  babies  to  some  upper  world  like  this, 
and  drowse  away  our  lives  in  sleepy  rural  content  —  or  discontent,  as  the 
case  may  be.  I  cannot  tell  how  long  I  shall  be  kept  here,  but  I  shall  leave 
no  stone  unturned  (geological  joke)  to  get  back  as  soon  as  possible.  I  should 
like  to  move  Harvard  College  up  to  this  hilltop ;  teaching  would  not  be  half 
the  labor. 

Coast  Survey  Camp,  Hoosac  Mountains  [no  date]. 

.  .  .  Since  the  morning  I  have  done  two  and  a  half  miles,  or  one  half  of 
the  tunnel ;  to-morrow  shall  do  the  rest.  This  finishes  the  bad  leg  work,  the 
remainder  I  can  do  on  horseback  or  from  a  wagon.  ...  I  shall  accumulate 


COAST  SURVEY  WORK  283 

enough  work  to  keep  me  busied  with  my  hands:  taking  specific  gravities 
and  so  forth,  for  something  like  fifty  days.  The  camp  agrees  with  me. 
I  did  a  long  morning's  work  and  now  feel  very  well.  I  shall  try  and  bring 
my  observations  to  that  point  where  I  shall  have  at  most  one  more  journey 
to  make.  ...  Be  assured  I  shall  be  home  as  soon  as  possible. 

Camp,  Hoosac  Mt.  [no  date]. 

.  .  .  Who  should  turn  up  yesterday  but  Sterry  Hunt?  He  is  looking  after 
some  matters  for  the  state  and  is  staying  at  North  Adams.  I  shall  go  there 
this  evening  to  have  a  conference  with  him  about  some  points  which  he  is 
more  competent  to  consider  than  I  am.  I  have  the  satisfaction  of  being  able 
to  give  far  more  than  I  shall  receive,  for  he  is  not  up  in  the  physical  questions. 
Chauncey  Wright  has  been  here  with  Charles  Peirce  for  a  day  or  two :  he  will 
take  this  down  to  you. 

Mr.  Shaler  often  referred  to  this  stay  at  the  Hoosac  Mountains 
as  one  of  the  most  interesting  and  intellectually  inspiring 
experiences  of  his  life.  To  come  in  close  contact  with  two  such 
broad  and  penetrating  minds  as  Charles  Peirce's  and  Chauncey 
Wright's  was  a  delight  and  stimulus  to  him.  In  the  intervals 
of  their  works  their  talk  was  persistent,  lasting  late  into  the 
night  and  often  even  after  they  had  got  into  bed. 

It  is  evident  from  the  following  letter  that  Mr.  Shaler  con- 
tinued to  be  engaged  during  the  ensuing  year  with  other  im- 
portant works  for  the  government.  Professor  Benjamin  Peirce 
(director  of  the  Coast  Survey)  writes :  — 

CAMBRIDGE,  Oct.  8th,  1875. 

...  I  have  read  and  approved  your  profound  and  ingenious  report  upon 
the  geology  of  the  coast,  Boston  to  New  York.  But  I  do  not  profess  to  have 
criticised  it  very  minutely,  for  it  was  too  difficult.  Your  handwriting,  which 
is  nice  to  look  at,  is  not  easy  for  one  to  read,  so  I  cannot  make  out  every 
word.  .  .  .  [The  remainder  of  Mr.  Peirce's  long  letter  is  hopelessly  illegible.] 

Shaler's  difficult  handwriting,  as  we  have  before  stated,  was 
often  an  annoyance  as  well  as  a  source  of  amusement  to  his 
friends,  as  will  be  seen  in  the  letter  given  below :  — 

June  24, 1875. 

My  dear  Shaler:  ...  I  presented  your  paper  to  the  publishing  com- 
mittee and  they  considered  the  matter  very  favorably.  There  was  but  one 


284     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

slight  objection,  the  force  of  which  you  will  recognize  at  once.  No  one  could 
read  the  MS.  and  say  what  was  in  the  essay.  Therefore  they  deputed  me 
to  request  you  to  fulfil  the  usual  requirements  and  present  the  paper  as  a 
communication  at  some  future  meeting.  I  dare  say  that  this  will  annoy 
you  a  little  at  first,  but  I  think  after  a  time  it  will  be  more  amusing  than 
annoying. 

I  hope  you  have  by  this  time  entirely  surmounted  the  first  difficulties  of 
the  summer  campaign. 

Very  truly  yours,  A.  HYATT. 

It  was  doubtless  his  Coast  Survey  work  that  necessitated 
many  short  journeys  at  this  time,  such,  for  instance,  as  the  one 
referred  to  in  the  next  letter. 

HINGHAM,  April  23,  1875. 

...  Six  o'clock  found  us  here,  about  twenty-three  miles  behind  us. 
We  wanted  to  go  to  Cohasset,  but  a  likely-looking  hotel  tempted  us  to  give 
up  the  five  miles.  My  companion  is  rather  dull,  not  conceited  enough  to  be 
amusing.  I  feel  somewhat  rested  already.  I  can't  see  my  letters,  and  the 
thousand  and  one  things  that  solicit  care  are  away  from  my  hand.  I  shall 
like  the  road  after  it  turns  towards  home  much  better  than  I  do  now.  My 
horse  and  I  feel  alike,  he  constantly  tries  to  turn  around  and  evidently  thinks 
the  performance  very  foolish.  I  am  not  sure  that  he  is  not  right. 

Within  a  month  Mr.  Shaler  was  back  in  Kentucky  again 
supervising  the  State  Survey.  He  writes :  — 

May  15, 1875. 

.  .  .  We  had  a  fatiguing  journey  to  Grayson,  the  weather  has  been  hot 
and  the  roads  something  frightful  for  stones  and  gullies.  If  the  boy  gets  here 
with  my  horse  I  shall  ride  to  S.'s  camp,  about  fifteen  miles,  and,  after  seeing 
him,  take  a  boat  to  Vanceburg.  ...  I  fear  I  shall  not  get  home  before 
Wednesday  morning,  for  I  have  promised  the  people  of  Lewis  to  come  their 
way,  and  I  suppose  they  are  in  a  certain  sense  entitled  to  my  presence.  I  am 
tired  and  stewed  with  heat.  Generally  in  a  bad  humor.  I  see  four  months 

of  hot  work  ahead,  but  I  hope  to  be  able  to  go  through  it.   P left  me 

to-day;  he  is  a  good  fellow  but  a  little  tiresome  with  time,  like  most  mortals. 
The  room  is  full  of  dorbugs;  five  already  in  the  wash-basin  by  their  own 
blundering,  so  you  may  reckon  the  number.  I  wish  I  were  home  to-night, 
even  though  I  should  have  to  take  up  the  burden  of  another  move  the  next 
day.  .  .  .  Fortunately  I  am  tired  and  can  hope  to  find  some  forgetful- 


IN  KENTUCKY  AGAIN  285 

ness  of  the  rather  hateful  present  in  sleep.   My  friends  the  B s  here 

have  been  very  kind.  They  have  an  elegant  house  and  are  very  hospitable. 
This  endless  running  around  makes  one's  life  a  thing  of  shreds  and 
patches.  I  feel  sick  of  it.  ...  Eighteen  hours  since  I  sent  you  a  despatch. 
No  answer.  .  .  . 

June  1. 

.  .  .  Our  nooning,  tea-drinking,  bug-fighting  hour  comes  and  gives  me 
time  to  write.  All  goes  well,  and  we  are  getting  along  speedily  towards 
our  camp,  which  we  hope  to  reach  on  Thursday  night.  .  .  .  Our  nooning 
reminds  me  quite  forcibly  of  our  Alleghany  Camps  —  the  sun,  the  shade, 
the  flies,  the  agreeable  discomforts,  all  help  the  likeness.  .  .  . 


GRAYSON  SPRINGS,  June  3rd,  1875. 

.  .  .  We  have  just  arrived  jaded  and  hungry,  ever  so  much  leaner  in  body 
and  wearier  in  soul :  thirty-six  hours  to  rest,  then  I  go  south  to  look  up  my 
camp.  If  it  were  in  my  power  I  should  give  up  all  wandering  that  took  me 
away  from  my  belongings.  .  .  . 

June  4, 1875. 

.  .  .  We  were  very  tired,  so  the  day  has  been  given  to  rest  and  writing. 
...  I  have  written  my  Lexington  address;  it  is  rather  scrappy,  but  the 
manuscript  has  the  dust  of  forty  counties  on  it  and  will  need  your  copying 
hand  if  it  is  to  be  read  at  all.  This  summer  heat  is  training  me  down  in 
weight,  but  I  seem  to  recover  easily,  though  at  times  much  worn.  There  is 
nothing  to  do  but  to  peg  away  hoping  for  the  best. 

Train,  June  16th. 

.  .  .  Arrived  in  Louisville  tired,  but  most  of  the  fatigue  was  due  to  read- 
ing on  the  train  Victor  Hugo's  raving  nonsense;  it  has  a  certain  fascination 
for  one ;  it  is  railway  literature.  They  made  me  comfortable  at  the  hotel. 
Some  of  the  rooms  look  as  homelike  as  an  English  inn.  The  boys  at  table 
know  my  leanings  away  from  hot  bread  and  towards  milk,  so  I  do  not  grow 
less  thin.  It  won't  be  so  this  coming  week  —  "  Farewell,  a  long  farewell  to 
all  my  greatness,"  I  can  sing  with  Wolsey.  There  is  one  satisfaction,  there 
is  less  to  carry  and  less  for  the  ticks.  One  is  willing  to  be  lean  to  starve  the 
scoundrels.  You  had  better  bring  a  bottle  of  pennyroyal  and  train  your  nose 
a  little.  I  expect  to  adopt  it  as  the  perfume  of  the  camp.  .  .  .  Please  look 
over  my  letters,  answer  those  you  can,  and  write  the  contents  of  the  others. 
Take  the  auditor's  check  to  bank  —  this  is  important  during 's  sick- 
ness. I  wish  you  could  show  some  kindness  to  the  poor  man.  I  fear  the 


286  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

dry-souled will  do  nothing  for  him  in  an  illness  which  promises  to  be 

long.  I  shall  get  to  camp  to-day  if  I  can  find  a  horse,  mule,  or  other  transpor- 
tation. A  ducking  is  on  the  bills,  for  I  forgot  my  overcoat  and  the  clouds 
are  sulkily  watching  for  me ;  fortunately  I  am  neither  sugar  nor  salt  so  I  shall 
not  melt,  but  will  growl  through  it  and  eat  my  ration  and  drink  an  apple 
toddy  (if  it  is  not  smashed)  when  I  get  to  camp. 

July  1st. 

...  A  fog  delays  us  and  there  is  the  well-known  dismal  tooting  while 
the  boat  crawls  along.  This  cuts  me  out  of  a  day.  ...  I  feel  very  blue 
about  diving  into  the  woods  for  ten  days  or  more,  but  I  take  courage  in  the 
hope  that  it  will  be  the  last  time  for  some  months.  ...  In  packing  manu- 
scripts, note-books,  etc.,  be  very  careful  so  that  they  shall  be  secure.  ...  I 
forgot  my  razor,  so  you  will  find  me  in  a  ferocious  beard  when  I  come  out 
of  the  woods. 

July  19th. 

...  A  pleasant  journey  but  a  weary  night,  the  unending  grind  of  a  stern- 
wheeler  crawling  over  sand-bars  and  stumps,  a  wretched  hotel  with  the  din 
of  dinner  and  its  stench ;  it  makes  me  sick,  so  I  must  seek  a  level  place  in  the 
open  if  it  is  to  be  found. 

Aug.  8. 

...  I  am  tolerably  well  but  tired  of  this  endless  chase.  Have  had  good 
luck  with  my  geological  work  but  bad  luck  with  my  personal  effects.  I  hope 
you  are  gradually  making  ready  for  the  trip  East.  Don't  be  anxious  about 
me,  for  I  have  some  acquaintances  at  Hickman  who  will  look  after  me,  and 
the  hope  of  getting  through  quickly  will  carry  me  safely  through.  .  .  . 

WlLLAKD,  Aug.  18,  '75. 

.  .  .  Everything  has  gone  to  sixes  and  sevens,  only  part  of  our  things 
arrived,  horses  sore-backed.  This  is  a  miserable  chafing  existence  I  lead 
after  all.  I  hope  it  will  soon  be  mended.  Am  pretty  well  despite  irritation 
and  hope  to  feel  quite  well  as  soon  as  we  get  into  the  woods.  .  .  .  Shan't 
I  be  happy  when  we  get  our  heads  in  the  Cambridge  Shanty!  ...  I  am 
anxious  to  have  a  quiet  two  weeks  before  the  winter's  dance  begins. 

Wednesday  [no  date]. 

.  .  .  We  shall  sleep  at  Peach  Orchard  and  make  a  long  march  to-morrow. 
Am  quite  well,  sleeping  soundly  at  night.  You  will  see  on  the  edge  of  this 
sheet  evidence  of  a  lamentable  accident,  the  smashing  of  my  quinine  and 
iron  and  the  inundation  of  my  portfolio ;  this  life  of  accidents  is  accursed. 


IRKSOMENESS  OF  THE  WORK  287 

"Wednesday  night  [no  date]. 

...  I  hoped  that  my  delay  at  Albany  was  the  last,  but  I  had  a  dreary 
wait  of  five  hours  at  the  Cleveland  depot.  ...  I  have  never  had  a  more 
tedious  and  lonesome  journey  than  this  has  been.  It  seems  a  month  since 
I  started  and  an  age  is  laid  out  in  the  five  days  to  come.  I  have  half  a  notion 

that  the  Survey  bill  is  fated  to  fail.   P has  not  yet  got  in  the  bill  and 

this  is  much  against  it.  He  cannot  act;  he  is  a  sort  of  McClellan  in  legisla- 
tion. .  .  . 

Dec.  22nd. 

.  .  .  Another  day  has  gone  and  I  come  to  my  "fourthly."  About  the 
only  good  thing  in  my  days  at  present  is  their  going.  ...  I  am  really 
tempted  to  resign  this  Survey  business,  but  it  would  be  cowardly  at  this 
moment.  I  shall  have  to  wait  until  next  autumn,  at  least  then  I  must  do 
something  to  get  the  load  of  this  winter  journey  off  my  shoulders.  My 
highest  ambition  is  to  do  a  [word  illegible]  work  and  do  it  well.  I  have  done 
my  share  of  running  up  and  down  this  world,  for  the  present  at  least.  .  .  . 

FBANKFOBT,  Dec.  23. 

...  I  had  a  charming  letter  from  you  yesterday,  which  quite  cheered 
me  up.  ...  I  did  not  come  directly  to  the  hotel,  but  went  to  see  the  Gov- 
ernor ;  so  I  told  Jeff  [the  porter],  who  was  at  the  station,  to  pick  me  a  room. 
He  remembered  that  we  were  here  before,  so,  with  a  fineness  that  his  white 
betters  would  not  have  shown,  he  chose  this,  for  which  I  thank  him.  I  may 
be  able  to  start  up  the  river  on  Sunday  evening,  which  should  bring  me  home 
on  Thursday. 

Louisville  Hotel,  Dec.  24th. 

...  I  came  here  belated  by  the  train,  full  of  happy  people  going  here 
and  there  to  their  Xmas  Eve.  This  town  is  a  rattle  of  sounds ;  they  are  merry 
enough,  I  dare  say;  but  I  am  tired,  so  they  are  noise  to  me.  .  .  .  Have  got 
my  work  in  pretty  good  trim ;  it  moves  on  fairly.  ...  So  far  I  have  been 
quite  well,  but  to-night  I  am  extremely  weary,  I  have  never  had  a  journey 
go  more  irksomely  by.  I  have  only  been  a  week  and  it  seems  a  month  since 
I  left  home.  .  .  . 

Dec.  27,  '75. 

...  It  appears  that  the  Survey  bill  is  likely  to  pass  the  legislature. 
I  am  glad  for  the  sake  of  my  hungry  young  friends  and  sorry  for  our  own. 
I  am  writing  in  the  car ;  a  drunken  man  is  yelling  like  a  demon  and  prancing 
like  a  devil  —  a  coarse  crowd,  but  full  of  a  fiery  animal  vigor  which  in  its 
way  is  fine. 


288  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

FRANKFORT,  Dec.  28,  '75. 

...  I  am  getting  on  pretty  well  save  for  a  headache  which  promises  me 
a  day  of  misery.  The  Legislature  meets  Friday ;  I  am  to  address  them  on 
Monday.  The  chance  for  the  Survey  seems  good,  but  many  shake  their 
heads.  I  went  to  the  governor's  levee.  The  last  I  attended  was  seventeen 
years  ago;  nearly  all  the  men  I  knew  then  and  saw  there  are  dead.  The 
Governor  and  his  wife  are  handsome  and  well  mannered.  The  mass  on  the 
whole  are  a  very  quiet-mannered  people,  not  a  bit  loud  —  a  great  change  in 
thirty  years.  A  fine  but  incongruous  supper,  serving  its  purpose,  however,  of 
feeding  a  lot  of  hungry  politicians. 

Dec.  30,  75. 

.  .  .  Many  protests  are  made  against  my  leaving  on  Tuesday,  but  I  cannot 
stand  the  place  any  longer ;  it  is  a  perfect  pandemonium.  To  make  it  worse, 
the  weather  is  like  summer,  grass  and  flowers  growing  as  in  spring,  no  frost 
since  I  came  here.  Confusion  is  made  more  hateful  by  good  weather.  I  have 
seen  no  one  but  members  of  the  Legislature,  and  am  sick  of  the  work,  for  it 

is  the  hardest  I  have  ever  had  to  do.  ...  I  shall  have  P stay  here 

after  I  have  gone  to  complete  the  task  of  explanation;  he  fits  the  work, 
I  am  sick  of  the  business.  It  will  be  a  close  fight,  but  the  strongest  men  are 
for  the  Survey.  [In  regard  to  the  answering  of  endless  questions,  he  writes :] 
I  am  pretty  well  and  rested  mentally,  the  conundrum  devil  is  laid  for  the 
moment  at  least. 

Geological  Cabinet,  PHILADELPHIA,  1876. 

...  I  had  a  dreary  but  pretty  easy  time  to  Philadelphia.  Came  here 
this  morning  and  found  much  that  needed  eye  and  thought.  We  shall  do 
very  well  for  our  means;  though  we  fall  behind  many  nations,  we  are  not 
surpassed  by  any  state  in  the  real  utility  of  the  show.  .  .  . 

Centennial  Exposition,  Friday  [no  date]. 

...  A  frightful  throng  here  to-day,  marring  the  earth  on  one  of  our  per- 
fect autumn  days.  I  am  in  fair  order,  and,  save  for  weariness  of  soul  which 

besets  my  devious  ways,  may  be  said  to  be  well.   Dr.  R of  Frankfort 

goes  with  me  to  Cincinnati ;  he  is  a  good  fellow  and  will  light  the  way.  .  .  . 
Proctor  is  doing  his  duty  manfully,  and  as  he  has  his  wife  and  children  with 
him  he  will  be  contented.  Please  send  my  compass  and  telescope  combined, 
the  large  opera-glass,  rubber  coat,  and  leggings  to  Morristown  by  express. 
Send  brown  case  with  photograph  proofs  within  it,  pamphlet  on  the  An- 
tiquity of  Caverns  and  Cave  Life  in  the  Ohio  Valley,  to  Proctor  at  Phila- 
delphia by  mail  or  express. 


LETTERS  FROM  ENGLAND  289 

E.  B.  Tawney's  letters  throw  further  light  upon  this  period. 
He  writes :  — 

BRISTOL,  1875. 

.  .  .  There  is  a  notice  in  Nature  of  a  paper  by  you  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly: 
I  thoroughly  agree  with  what  you  say  in  the  extract  about  the  English 
Geological  Survey.  It  fails  as  a  teacher:  it  is  all  rule  of  thumb  and  men 
have  to  teach  themselves.  The  reason  is  that  the  School  of  Mines  is  not  in- 
timately connected  with  the  Survey  and  the  School  is  badly  treated :  the 
professors  take  little  interest  in  it,  and  lecture  therefore  without  exciting  en- 
thusiasm :  no  love  of  learning  is  begotten  and  no  esprit  de  corps  such  as  there 
is  in  a  university.  .  .  . 

.  .  .  Two  Memoirs  arrived  soon  after  your  letter,  on  "Ohio-Cavern  Life" 
and  "Recent  Changes  of  Sea-Level  on  the  Coast  of  Maine."  They  are  a 
source  of  pleasure  to  me ;  reading  them  brings  back  pleasant  remembrances, 
snatches  of  Malvern,  Val  de  Travers  walks,  in  the  way  things  jump  into  the 
mind.  I  shall  be  glad  to  receive  subsequent  parts  so  that  we  may  notice  them 
in  the  Geological  Record. 

Your  account  of  the  Appalachian  summer  teaching  of  geology  sounds  very 
attractive,  and  if  you  have  it  on  again  next  year  I  shall  certainly  try  to  run 
over  and  see  how  you  manage  things.  It  is  such  a  novel  idea  to  us  and  it 
seems  as  if  it  might  possibly  be  imitated  here ;  it  would  be  very  desirable  to 
do  so.  Then  as  you  say  one  could  go  to  the  Buffalo  meeting.  Many  thanks 
for  the  prospectus  of  the  Lawrence  Scientific  School :  it  appears  to  be  a  most 
complete  system  of  teaching.  ...  I  should  like  to  see  some  of  your  arrange- 
ments or  understand  more  of  them ;  you  are  far  ahead  of  us,  I  fear. 

Again  in  Kentucky,  Mr.  Shaler  writes:  — 

Camp  Harvard,  July  4,  '76. 

.  .  .  This  morning  finds  us  climbing  up  to  the  gap-shrouded  camp. 
Seventeen  days  of  pretty  steady  rain  has  given  a  natural  look  to  things  and 
a  promise  of  familiar  days.  Everything  is  at  odds,  nothing  but  the  tents  and 

some  food.  C has  done  what  was  expected  of  him,  but  the  others  have 

failed  to  do  their  duty.  I  hope  to  rush  things  at  full  pressure.  ...  I  shall 
get  away  on  Saturday  for  a  cruise  to  the  northward ;  after  that  I  shall  start 
for  North  Carolina  and  wind  up  my  own  work  as  fast  as  possible.  .  .  .  The 
mail  here  is  abandoned,  at  least  there  has  been  none  for  a  week.  I  shall  have 
to  run  my  own  line  unless  the  government  recovers  its  organization.  I  hope 
for  a  letter  by  to-morrow,  as  I  shall  send  out  a  searcher  this  evening.  ...  I 
must  seek  still  other  aid  from  you;  send  two  thermometers,  one  for  use 
in  springs,  costing  say  $3.00,  Safford's  Geology  of  Tennessee,  etc.,  etc. 


290     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

The  above  reference  to  the  mail  recalls  the  fact  that  at 
Cumberland  Gap  going  to  the  post-office  was  looked  upon  some- 
what in  the  light  of  a  joke.  On  one  occasion  the  postmaster 
produced  a  letter  from  some  obscure  corner  and  before  handing 
it  to  the  owner,  scanning  it  closely,  discovered  the  postmark  to 
be  Cambridge  Station;  seized  with  a  thirst  for  knowledge,  he 
said,  "I  say,  stranger,  isn't  Boston  somewhere  near  Cam- 
bridge?" This  happy  conjecture  was  afterward  used  with 
effect  when  Bostonians  assumed,  as  they  sometimes  did,  that 
Cambridge  in  a  social  way  was  an  unimportant  suburb  of  the 
larger  city. 

Camp  Harvard,  July  7,  '76. 

.  .  .  The  machinery  of  our  life  gives  little  pause  for  anything  but  utter 
weariness  at  night-time.  I  am  glad  of  it,  for  it  helps  along  the  days.  Im- 
agine all  of  our  troubles  of  last  year  repeated  with  half  the  people  and  you 
can  see  it  all  before  you.  We  have  a  pretty  good  set  of  students,  up  to  the 
average  of  last  year  I  believe,  but  our  Harvard  men  are  not  here  yet;  they 
will  bring  it  down  materially,  for  they  can't  compare  in  character  or  attain- 
ments with  the  teachers  we  have.  So  far  I  have  kept  quite  well  owing  to 
care  in  eating  and  exercise.  Several  of  the  people  have  been  upset  just  as 
last  year  because  of  their  excessive  eating.  Still  unending  rains,  but  a  cool 
air  at  night  giving  a  chance  for  peaceful  sleep.  ...  I  have  never  welcomed 
the  going  of  the  days  as  I  do  now ;  they  slip  away  slowly  but  surely  and  I 
now  count  near  one  fourth  of  the  time  behind  me. 

Camp  Harvard,  July  12,  '76. 
...  I  came  back  last  night,  having  been  absent  since  last  Monday.  At 

midnight  I  was  aroused  by  a  messenger  with  direful  news :  a  Mr.  C from 

Minnesota,  who  had  betaken  himself  to  archaeology,  he  having  been  much 
of  a  worker  in  that  field,  was  killed  by  the  caving-in  of  an  excavation  in  a 
mound  about  twenty  miles  from  here.  I  have  just  finished  preparations  for 
sending  the  body  home ;  at  least  we  will  try,  though  earth  may  claim  its  own 
before  we  can  get  to  the  railway.  Another  man  was  damaged,  but  we  hope 
he  will  live.  ...  I  should  be  more  chagrined  than  I  am,  were  it  not  that 

C 's  work  was  no  part  of  the  school  work  and  was  the  result  of  a  sudden 

change  of  plan  for  which  I  am  in  no  way  responsible.  Moreover,  he  was  of 
fifty  years  and  had  been  digging  in  mounds  for  years;  besides  he  was  fore- 
warned of  the  danger.  ...  I  found  four  letters  from  you,  which  have 
cheered  me  greatly,  and  I  need  such  help  now.  .  .  . 


SURVEY  WORK  IN  KENTUCKY  291 

FRANKFORT,  Aug.  3,  '76. 

.  .  .  Another  busy  day  behind  me  and  night  that  is  welcome  as  another 
stage  on.  Have  got  on  smoothly  with  the  Governor.  There  is  still  further 
trouble  with  the  printing  and  the  end  is  not  yet.  I  shall  have  a  boat-ride  up 

the  Kentucky  River  for  ten  miles  with  J this  evening.  I  expect  it  will  be 

a  bore  but  rather  less  than  staying  in  the  hotel.  ..."  Those  to  whom  God 
wishes  well,"  Schiller  says,  "those  sends  He  forth  out  into  His  beautiful 
world."  I  used  to  think  this  fine,  but  Schiller  was  never  a  state  geologist. 
I  shall  hurry  to  Morristown  for  letters. 

DANVILLE  JUNCTION,  Aug.  5,  '76. 

...  I  have  just  learned  that  W was  in  Danville  when  I  passed  through. 

I  spent  an  hour  in  a  pelting  rain  trying  to  find  him ;  asked  at  post-office, 
telegraph-office,  of  mutual  acquaintances,  etc.,  but  did  not  find  his  majesty, 
who  I  suppose  will  be  surprised  that  he  could  be  lost  in  a  town  of  five  thou- 
sand people.  However,  he  will  doubtless  feel  badly  enough  at  the  result 
of  his  carelessness.  This  is  his  great  fault,  he  cannot  provide  for  contingen- 
cies. ...  It  will  be  a  good  lesson  to  him.  I  am  in  a  bad  humor  and  won't 
write  any  more.  I  have  been  in  a  bad  humor  ever  since  I  left  home  and  fear 
it  is  getting  chronic.  You  must  prepare  to  treat  it  when  we  meet. 

Near  MORRISTOWN,  Aug.  8,  '76. 

.  .  .  Have  just  finished  a  long  chase  for  my  party,  having  ridden  the 
greater  part  of  last  night.  I  find  them  all  well  and  happy.  I  feel  a  sense  of 
rest  at  having  my  long  chase  behind  me.  I  am  lean  and  a  little  overworked, 
but  I  believe  the  open-air  life  will  do  much  to  set  me  up  again.  .  .  .  This  is 
a  pretty  country,  forlorn  and  far  away,  but  the  air  is  sweet  and  pure  —  that 
counts  for  much. 

NEWPORT,  KT.,  Oct.  14,  '76. 

.  .  .  Arrived  at  9  P.  M.  in  good  condition,  better  than  usual.  They  seem 
poorly  here;  all  climate-ridden  and  suffering  from  Centennial  collapse. 

has  seen  my  lucubrations  on  the  South  and  is  in  sore  dudgeon  thereat ; 

he  will  recover  however.  I  now  believe  Tilden  can  be  elected  unless  there 
is  a  sudden  access  of  folly  in  the  Democracy.  Indiana  has  gone  about  5500 
Democratic  and  can  hold  it  in  November.  New  York  and  Connecticut  are 
safe.  So  there  is  some  hope  of  getting  out  of  the  frying-pan  whether  into  the 
fire  or  no  remains  to  be  seen  hereafter.  I  rode  out  with  Dr.  R ,  a  well- 
educated  physician  from  Frankfort.  He  is  a  diligent  student  and  an  enthu- 
siast in  his  profession.  Knows  the  use  of  water  cure  and  is  in  successful 

practice  with  it.    Found  G here ;  he  is  as  dull  as  ever,  but  I  believe  he 

is  not  chronic. 


292     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

FRANKFORT,  KY.,  Dec.  7,  '76. 

...  I  am  weary  with  an  unspeakable  weariness  which  has  grown  with 
every  hour  of  my  journey.  .  .  .  The  Survey  bill  has  made  no  headway 
yet.  I  shall  drag  it  out  and  make  it  win  or  lose  this  week.  It  looks  as  if  I 
might  have  to  stay  here  until  Friday  to  do  this.  I  shall  have  to  go  over  to 

Lexington  to-morrow  and  get  a  quiet  night  at  Dr.  Peter's.    P and  N 

and  the  others  seem  absolutely  dependent  on  the  Survey  and  helpless  if  it 
fails.  The  Legislature  is  without  an  efficient  leader  and  so  does  little  business. 
I  greatly  doubt  whether  the  bill  gets  through. 

LEXINGTON,  Dec.  29,  '76. 

...  I  have  had  a  piece  of  good  fortune.   M and  P ,  half  buried  in 

snow  in  western  Kentucky,  wisely  decided  to  give  up  the  field  work  with- 
out waiting  for  me,  so  I  find  them  here.  I  have  therefore  escaped  the  journey 
to  that  part  of  the  state  and  can  fairly  hope  to  be  on  my  way  home  Tuesday 
evening.  It  is  an  additional  reason  for  being  grateful  that  we  are  now  having 
a  prodigious  snow-storm,  the  heaviest  in  this  region  for  fifty  years.  Find 
matters  in  good  train  here;  the  season's  work  has  been  good  on  the  whole, 
the  best  yet  had  in  the  Survey.  I  have  been  pretty  well  so  far.  .  .  . 

FRANKFORT,  Dec.  30,  '76. 

...  I  wrestled  over  here  this  afternoon  in  a  train  baffled  with  snow 
which  people  do  not  know  how  to  deal  with.  I  find  enough  bothers  to  keep 
me  until  Tuesday  afternoon,  when  I  hope  to  be  away  for  home.  ...  If 
I  have  much  more  of  this  travel  to  do  I  shall  take  to  venturing  in  telegraph 
stock  so  that  I  may  feel  that  it  is  allowable  to  send  you  as  many  messages 
as  I  want  to.  ... 

The  succeeding  letters  close  the  correspondence  while  Mr. 
Shaler  had  charge  of  the  Kentucky  State  Survey. 

FRANKFORT,  KY.,  Jan.  3, 1878. 

.  .  .  There  is  a  red  heat  here  over  the  senatorial  election ;  we  cannot  get 
a  hearing  until  that  is  over.  I  have  sought  for  my  enemies,  but  do  not  find 
them.  I  dare  say  they  will  appear  in  time.  We  count  the  necessary  vote, 
however,  and  hope  to  get  through  in  decent  shape.  I  do  not  intend  to  come 
out  again  in  February.  The  work  is  detestable. 

Since  writing  the  above,  Stoddard  Johnson  has  been  talking  to  me  for  an 
hour  to  convince  me  of  the  absolute  need  of  my  giving  a  lecture  on  next 
Wednesday,  when  he  believes  the  election  will  be  over.  I  am  so  determined 
to  make  this  my  only  visit  that  I  may  consider  it  is  best  to  do  this.  I  have 


SURVEY  WORK  IN  KENTUCKY  293 

two  or  three  thousand  spent  dollars  in  the  question  and  at  least  twenty- 
four  hundred  to  come.  If  the  bill  passes  it  will  not  hereafter  require  legisla- 
tive action  and  will  not  compel  me  to  take  winter  journeys.  It  is  snowing 
hard  and  I  fear  you  are  having  your  share  as  it  comes  from  the  east.  I  hate 
the  thousand  miles  that  separate  me  from  Cambridge. 

FBANKFORT,  KY.,  Feb.  13, 1878. 

I  hoped  to  have  started  from  here  to-morrow,  but  I  fear  that  it  will  be 
Friday  before  I  can  get  away.  I  shall  come  through  New  York  in  order  to 
see  the  Tilly  Foster  mine.  In  case  the  ground  is  clear  of  snow  I  may  try 
to  get  up  there  on  Sunday  to  finish  up  my  work.  .  .  . 

HUMBOLDT,  TENN.,  June  15, 1878. 

I  left  Louisville  at  12.30  and  had  a  very  disagreeable  ride  to  this  place  — 
stifling  heat  and  coal  smoke  making  a  very  good  imitation  of  hell.  Dante 
needs  come  again  to  do  justice  to  it.  It  is  curious  to  see  how  far  along  the 
season  is  here.  Peaches  and  plums  ripe,  and  corn  in  some  fields  with  the 
plume  showing  its  yellow  hue  among  the  green.  I  have  a  few  hours  of  waiting 
here  in  a  place  which  surely  was  first  named  for  Humboldt  the  patent  medi- 
cine man.  All  the  fences  are  decorated  with  Buchu  or  Ague  Bitters  adver- 
tisements. I  am  sure  that  the  people  have  confounded  the  names  of  these 
two  good  and  great  men.  Such  is  fame. 

I  shall  be  in  Columbus  this  evening  at  8  P.  M.,  if  the  ague  doesn't  shake 
the  train  off  the  track ;  the  very  road  seems  to  have  the  ague. 

I  am  glad  to  have  you  spared  sight  of  this  forlorn  country,  ...  it  has 
an  aboriginally  damned  look  which  is  almost  awe-inspiring.  Hungry,  ravaged 
fields  which  the  woods  cannot  reclaim,  scabby-looking  cotton-fields,  and 
dog-fennel  pastures.  It  is  hard  to  gather  hope  in  such  fields. 

COLUMBUS,  KENTUCKY,  June  16, 1878. 

.  .  .  We  are  tolerably  comfortable  here ;  the  house  is  very  clean  and  well 
kept;  but  it  is  a  shifting  little  town  on  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi,  where 
it  is  gridironed  by  the  sun.  The  thermometer  is  up  to  90  degrees.  The  land- 
lady is  "  sort  of  kinsfolk."  She  is  a  sister  of  my  old  friend  Edward  T ,  who 

long  ago  eat  and  danced  himself  into  the  jaws  of  death.  The  good  woman 
makes  a  slender  subsistence  in  keeping  a  little  inn :  the  natural  end  of  many 
Virginia  efforts  with  life.  I  dried  myself  in  the  sun  for  three  hours  this  morn- 
ing ;  it  seemed  to  limber  me  up  considerably.  I  find  myself  as  usual  without 
a  toothbrush.  I  should  have  three,  but  they  seem  to  have  a  curious  volatile 
nature  in  my  hands.  I  shall  have  to  rob  the  next  apothecary  of  his  stock  and 


294     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

stuff  all  my  baggage  with  them.  ...  I  now  remember  that  it  is  the  custom 
to  wear  short  dresses  at  the  Mammoth  Cave.  So  you  will  have  to  provide 
yourself  with  some  sort  of  bloomeresque  costume.  You  must  not  give  up  the 
journey.  It  is  not  likely  that  I  shall  ever  be  called  this  way  again.  I  hope 
to  give  a  good  deal  of  energy  to  getting  through  rapidly,  and  as  I  travel 
towards  home  for  the  first  two  weeks,  be  sure  that  no  grass  will  grow  under 
my  feet. 

Cainp  near  MAYFIELD,  June  20, 1878. 

We  get  along  slowly :  the  roads  are  crooked  and  the  devil  of  delay  in  every 
corner.  I  now  see  to  my  sorrow  that  I  cannot  get  back  to  you  on  Saturday. 
We  have  been  quite  well;  the  country  we  have  traversed  is  healthy  and 
high,  a  beautiful  farming  country,  about  the  most  uniformly  good  land 
in  the  state.  .  .  .  We  must  be  at  the  Mammoth  Cave  on  the  sixth.  I  shall 
in  this  way  get  about  a  week  away  from  Camp.  I  am  utterly  disgusted  at 
the  failure  of  my  plans  for  getting  home  this  week. 

Camp,  July  28, 1878. 

I  find  my  camp,  the  northern  party,  —  for  it  is  divided  into  two,  —  in 
rather  poor  shape,  doing  little  save  getting  over  the  ground.  Last  night  the 
other,  the  southern  party,  came  to  a  Bull  Run  retreat,  having  managed  to 
smash  up  their  instruments,  after  which,  ceasing  work,  they  fell  back  upon 
my  camp  in  a  demoralized  condition.  .  .  .  The  following  is  my  plan.  .  .  . 
I  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  tell  over  this  plan  for  putting  distance  behind 
me.  It  is  the  way  out  of  my  present  wilderness  to  the  happy  land  of  home. 
Please  see  that  money  is  sent  to  me  at  Abingdon. 


Camp  at  OLD  LANDING,  July  31, 1878. 

Proctor  turns  west  this  morning,  so  that  I  get  a  chance  to  send  a  letter 
which  will  not  run  the  gauntlet  of  the  mountain  mails,  when  each  five  miles 
the  letters  are  poured  upon  a  bar-room  table  and  each  man  takes  his  pick. 
My  camp  is  again  in  working  order  and  doing  all  that  the  weather  and 
country  will  allow.  ...  So  far  we  have  found  an  interesting  country  with 
a  big-limbed,  hospitable  people.  The  camp  keeps  well ;  they  are  a  set  of 
bronzed  savages  that  do  me  credit  as  a  camp-master.  I  shall  have  to  hire 
two  yoke  of  oxen  to  complete  my  outfit,  then  we  can  creep  up  the  hills, 
and  along  the  valleys  towards  our  goal.  We  are  camped  in  a  beautiful 
amphitheatre,  with  fine  cliffs  all  around  and  some  fine  caves,  where  it  is 
the  fashion  to  hide  for  a  while  after  having  killed  a  man;  this  adds  a  little 
romantic  touch  to  the  scene. 


SURVEY  WORK  IN  KENTUCKY  295 

Camp  near  BEATTYVILLB,  Aug.  1, 1878. 

Let  us  congratulate  ourselves  that  another  month  of  this  troubled  summer 
time  is  among  the  shadows.  We  may  fairly  hope  that  another  six  weeks 
will  bring  us  to  our  own  roof  again.  We  made  a  good  march  yesterday, 
despite  a  long  hill  that  required  four  oxen  and  two  horses  to  each  wagon 
as  well  as  a  dozen  men  to  steer  the  craft.  The  weather  was  fine  and  the  woods 
charming.  .  .  .  We  now  go  into  a  region  of  mails  once  a  week,  so,  but  for 
passing  chances,  we  must  get  few  letters  out  to  mail.  I  believe  that  it  will 
not  be  possible  to  get  to  Abingdon  before  the  nineteenth  of  the  month  with- 
out wearing  out  men  and  horses  or  slighting  work.  So  far  the  wild  folk  here 
have  been  very  kind  and  neighborly,  as  they  doubtless  will  be  to  the  end  of 
our  road.  ,  .  . 

Camp  near  JACKSON,  Aug.  5, 1878. 

We  are  creeping  on,  every  now  and  then  getting  to  a  piece  of  road  which 
seems  impossible  to  wagons,  but  we  still  get  on.  In  places  it  is  hard  to  tell 
that  there  has  ever  been  a  road  at  all.  All  that  there  ever  was  here  to  decay 
is  decaying,  at  least  in  the  way  of  man's  work,  for  the  river  runs  pure  and 
the  woods  are  beautiful,  the  better  for  the  worthlessness  of  man.  The  people 
raise  just  enough  for  subsistence  and  get  their  share  of  earthly  satisfaction 
out  of  their  feuds  and  whiskey ;  but  for  all  their  shif tlessness  they  are  kindly 
and  hospitable.  ...  So  far,  except  for  ticks,  jiggers,  fleas,  and  other 
plagues  of  the  kind,  I  have  been  well.  There  is,  however,  a  weariness  with  the 
life  coming  over  me  which  it  will  take  all  my  patience  to  restrain.  I  shall 
reckon  on  getting  to  Cambridge  on  the  twentieth.  This  is  a  fair-weather 
reckoning  however. 

Camp  near  PENNINGTON  GAP,  July  9, 1879. 

.  .  .  Our  camp  is  in  very  rude  shape,  a  sad  falling-off  from  that  at  Cum- 
berland Gap.  Our  old  tent,  ragged  and  forlorn,  is  up,  but  it  made  me  sad  to 

occupy  it.  I  was  up  all  night  with  D ,  who  had  a  severe  attack  of  cholera 

morbus.  .  .  .  Our  plans  are  well  matured,  so  I  hope  for  quick  and  profitable 
work.  "  I  shall  let  folks  see  how  spry  I  be."  To-day  at  noon  I  count  off  one 
third  of  my  exile.  .  .  . 

Camp  at  PENNTNGTON  GAP,  July  17, 1879. 

.  .  .  We  have  had  a  hard  journey  .  .  .  and  there  is  another  sharp  pull 
before  us  from  this  afternoon  to  next  Wednesday,  in  which  time  we  shall 
have  to  make  a  good  many  miles  of  travel ;  but  I  shall  find  them  shorter  than 
before,  for  I  am  taking  great  comfort  from  the  reflection  that  I  am  in  the 
last  ten  days  of  my  absence.  ...  It  is  possible  that  McKay  may  require 
my  services  in  North  Carolina :  if  so  there  will  be  but  little  time  left  for  any 


296     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

formal  rest  before  term  begins.  I  don't  feel  that  I  need  it  more  than  last 
year.  My  camp  life  has  not  been  very  chafing,  though  it  has  been  harder 
work  than  usual.  You  will  find  that  the  laurel  leaves  I  send  will  give  you 
good  subjects  for  painting;  they  are  as  beautiful  as  flowers  in  their  forms 
and  colors.  ...  It  is  not  worth  while  to  send  any  papers  here.  I  have  no 
time  to  read  them. 

The  next  letter  is  written  on  the  way  to  Colorado. 

On  C.  &  O.  R.  R.,  Aug.  23, 1879. 

I  have  got  through  one  of  the  most  uncomfortable  nights  of  the  summer. 
No  sleeping-car,  and  a  lot  of  chattering  idiots  to  cut  out  the  sleep  one  might 
have  had  doubled  up  on  the  seat.  Still  it  is  one  eighth  of  my  journey  done. 
.  .  .  The  25th,  Monday,  is  almost  gone;  I  have  been  occupying  it  with  my 
camp  accounts.  I  have  less  hair  on  my  head,  but  they  are  about  straight.  I 
don't  believe  I  have  lost  this  time  more  than  fifty  dollars  by  the  wayside.  .  .  . 

Near  KANSAS  CITY,  Saturday,  1879. 

The  third  night  is  behind  us  and  we  are  fairly  out  on  this  western  sea  of 
earth.  It  is  a  dull,  clay-sodden  earth  to  which  no  tenderness  of  association  can 
well  cling.  It  seems  to  me  a  vast,  broad  sow  fat  and  piggy  prairie  of  genera- 
tions of  bacon  and  savory  fatness,  but  not  the  mother  earth  that  one  loves. 
Men  will  have  to  live  well  if  they  are  to  sweeten  it  by  deeds  and  make  it  lovely 
by  memories.  Kansas  City  is  forlorn-looking  but  prosperous,  a  conglomera- 
tion of  rich,  poor,  decent,  vicious,  such  as  I  have  never  seen.  The  depot  is  a 
wonderful  whirl  of  trains  and  on  them  drifts  out  a  strange  tide  of  wanderers. 
I  pity  the  archangel  who  has  to  foresee  what  is  to  come  out  of  this  strange 
sowing  of  men  in  this  wilderness  —  forty  sorts  of  wheat  and  forty  sorts  of 
tares  all  at  once.  Although  there  is  much  to  see  I  am  rather  bored  with  it  all. 
When  we  see  the  mountains  it  will  be  a  relief;  but  I  would  not  swap  the 
quarter-acre  at  13  Bow  Street  for  all  this  empire  of  plains.  I  shall  write 
every  day,  but  as  the  chance  for  mails  is  not  good,  you  must  not  be  anxious 
if  delay  occurs. 

DENVER,  COLORADO,  Dec.  22, 1879. 

...  I  have  seen  the  "Rockies."  The  view  is  much  like  that  from  Mon- 
treux  (you  remember  the  first  time  we  saw  the  Dent  du  Midi)  except  that 
in  place  of  the  lake  we  have  the  valley  of  the  Platte  River.  They  are  majestic, 
but  unlovely,  a  stern  battle-front  of  mountains  built  up  against  the  ancient 
seas  that  wrapped  these  plains.  .  .  .  We  have  here  one  of  the  owners  of 
the  mine,  a  fine  rough  fellow.  I  believe  he  is  honest  and  that  McKay  will 
take  his  chance.  Next  Monday  I  hope  to  be  homeward  bound.  ...  It  is 


ADVICE  FROM  AGASSIZ  297 

delightful  here,  clear,  crisp,  and,  though  cold,  not  chilling.  I  walked  all  the 
morning  without  needing  an  overcoat.  The  town  is  new  and  bare  but  full 
of  decent  people  and  with  a  great  promise  for  the  future.  There  is  a  curious 
absence  of  children.  .  .  . 

LEADVILLE,  COLORADO,  Dec.  25, 1879. 

A  merry  Xmas  to  you  and  the  children.  I  wish  I  could  show  you  the  view 
from  the  window  where  I  sit.  We  stayed  over  night  at  a  mining-camp  on 
the  hillside  four  hundred  feet  above  Leadville.  On  the  west  the  mountains 
rise  into  the  great  range  that  parts  the  waters  of  the  Atlantic  and  the  Pacific. 
At  their  feet  lies  the  plain  of  the  upper  Arkansas,  and  on  its  hither  side  the 
concentrated  squalor  of  this  great  camp  where  thirty  thousand  hungry, 
eager  mortals  are  scratching  for  wealth  in  these  ancient  hills.  I  was  on  the 
mining-ground  yesterday  and  am  pleased  with  its  prospect.  Yet  I  do  not 
feel  sure  that  McKay  will  come  to  a  contract  with  the  owners.  .  .  .  The 
thermometer  is  20  degrees  below  zero,  the  snow  deep,  and  though  the  cold 
does  not  bite  as  at  home,  it  is  hard  to  bear.  My  wits  seem  frozen  in  me. 
I  find  it  hard  to  fix  my  mind  on  work  or  hold  impressions. 

Aside  from  his  field  work,  the  letters  from  Louis  Agassiz, 
extending  over  a  great  many  years,  throw  additional  light  upon 
his  scientific  work,  and  the  variety  of  the  demands  which  Mr. 
Shaler  met  in  connection  with  the  organization  and  building  up 
of  the  Museum;  also  upon  the  whole-souled  way  in  which  he 
labored  to  promote  the  interests  of  the  institution.  There  were 
occasions  when  he  not  only  had  his  own  hands  full,  but  the 
added  responsibility  of  holding  others  up  to  the  mark.  In  one  of 
his  letters  Agassiz  writes,  "Keep  all  these  people  busy;  make 
the  most  of  them  by  pushing  them  hard."  Now  and  then  there 
is  a  fatherly  word  of  warning  lest  he  do  too  much. 

"...  I  beseech  you/'  he  says,  "not  to  lend  yourself  towards 
the  College  to  more  work  of  lecturing  than  you  can  well  bear. 
They  are  not  likely  in  a  hurry  to  relieve  you  of  anything  you 
have  once  undertaken.  Remember  that  I  have  had  to  go  on 
with  zoology  and  geology  together  for  more  than  twenty  years, 
and  I  am  afraid  too  much  teaching  will  interfere  with  your 
own  scientific  progress.  Therefore  begin  with  the  distinct 
understanding  with  the  President  that  you  will  not  consider 


298  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

yourself  bound  to  do  year  after  year  what  you  are  willing  to  do 
this  year  in  order  to  make  a  right  beginning." 

And  again:  "After  what  N told  me  just  now  of  your 

days  I  beseech  you  not  to  undertake  more  than  you  can  carry. 
Take  my  example  as  a  warning;  and  look  out  for  assistance, 
active  and  efficient,  sooner  than  I  did.  You  might  at  once 
prepare  the  ways  with  some  of  those  working  at  the  Museum." 

Later,  in  regard  to  the  arrangement  of  fossil  collections  sent 
to  Dom  Pedro  II  and  a  number  of  distinguished  scientific 
men,  Agassiz  writes,  "  I  have  only  praises  and  thanks  for  such 
work."  Mrs.  Agassiz,  in  the  letters  which  she  wrote  for  her  hus- 
band, again  and  again  speaks  of  "the  comfort  and  peace  your 
efficient  and  affectionate  sympathy  gives  the  Professor." 

The  letters  of  1870  written  by  Agassiz  close  the  correspond- 
ence so  far  as  Museum  matters  are  concerned.  During  this 
period  Mr.  Shaler  went  frequently  at  Agassiz 's  request  to  Deer- 
field,  where  he  was  staying,  to  talk  over  plans  for  the  instruc- 
tion of  natural  history,  and  other  matters.  One  of  these  letters 
is  significant,  since  the  closing  sentence  reflects  Mr.  Shaler 's, 
as  well  as  Agassiz 's,  mind  in  regard  to  a  subject  of  high 
import.  Agassiz  writes :"...!  cannot  tell  you  how  much 
comfort  your  sympathy  for  my  plan  gives  me.  ...  I  shall 
have  upon  the  wall  cases  of  the  main  room  busts  or  portraits 
of  Aristotle,  Rondelet,  Linnaeus,  Pallas,  Cuvier,  and  Humboldt. 
I  should  like  to  have  Moses  there  as  the  man  who  wrote  the 
first  geological  essay  and  rescue  him  from  the  false  position 
in  which  Jews  and  Christians  hold  him.  This  little  room  will 
oblige  physicists  and  geologists  to  remember  that  our  earth  is 
the  home  of  spiritual  and  intellectual  beings.  ..." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

ITALY 

1881-1882 

IN  the  summer  of  1881,  owing  to  the  ill  health  of  a  member  of 
his  family  and  also  to  his  own  run-down  condition,  Mr.  Shaler 
set  sail  for  Europe.  Going  first  to  England,  by  easy  stages  he 
gradually  made  his  approach  to  Italy,  and  before  the  cold 
season  closed  in,  established  himself  comfortably  in  a  villa  out- 
side the  Porta  Romana  at  Florence.  When  he  first  saw  the 
Tuscan  city  it  was  girt  about  by  the  ancient  walls  that  for  cen- 
turies had  been  its  protection  against  its  many  enemies.  But 
now  on  one  side  these  walls  were  torn  away  to  let  the  town  grow 
freely  should  it  fancy  to  expand.  The  barrier  that  once  served 
for  safety  now  only  kept  the  smugglers  of  wine  and  oil  from 
evading  the  duty.  The  brisk  customs  officer,  with  his  pen  over 
his  ear  and  a  probe  to  rummage  in  the  loads  of  hay,  took  the 
place  of  the  wardens  of  old  with  their  trumpets  and  cross-bows. 
The  old  scenes  were  doubtless  more  picturesque,  but  through 
the  gate  the  tide  of  life  still  flowed.  All  the  wagons  of  the  coun- 
try people  must  stop  and  be  searched,  for  everything  that 
came  into  the  town  was  taxed.  This  made  the  gate  a  whirlpool 
in  the  stream  of  life,  and  Mr.  Shaler  never  passed  through  it, 
though  it  might  be  several  times  a  day,  without  seeing  some- 
thing that  was  worth  telling,  or  getting  some  hint  as  to  the  real 
nature  of  the  people. 

In  his  walks  he  was  frequently  accompanied  by  an  English 
officer  who  had  survived  many  perilous  campaigns  in  India. 
Both  were  exceedingly  critical  of  the  Italian  soldier ;  they  de- 
precated his  lack  of  discipline  and  especially  when  on  duty  his 


300  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

slouchy  gait.  At  the  Porta  Romana  the  sentinel  who  guarded 
the  entrance,  no  matter  how  often  he  was  replaced,  was  to  their 
minds  always  the  same  incompetent  pigeon-toed  fellow.  The 
general  insisted  that  some  day  in  his  march  he  would  inevitably 
twist  one  foot  round  the  other,  stumble  and  stick  his  bayonet 
in  the  nearest  passer-by.  To  be  thus  ignominiously  despatched 
was  a  fate  dreaded  by  the  Indian  veteran.  He  and  Mr.  Shaler 
therefore  would  give  the  soldier  a  wide  berth  and  would  laugh- 
ingly congratulate  one  another  whenever  they  escaped  the 
threatened  danger. 

As  it  turned  out,  the  weather  for  several  months  proved  to 
be  exceptionally  fine.  Mr.  Shaler  was  thus  able  to  indulge  his 
fancy  for  long  tramps  and  for  the  exploration  of  geological 
localities.  In  the  intervals  between  his  more  extended  excur- 
sions he  studied  Florence,  —  its  architecture,  its  picture  gal- 
leries, its  social  conditions,  —  and  became  exceedingly  fond  of 
what  he  called  "the  gloomy  old  city."  Living  in  the  artists' 
quarter  of  the  town,  he  saw  much  of  the  sculptors  who  congre- 
gate there,  and  became  an  interested  and  keen  critic  of  their 
work.  In  several  instances  where  he  had  gone  farther  afield 
than  they  he  was  able  to  guide  them  to  places  holding  some 
bit  of  precious  work,  hidden  from  those  who  tread  only  the 
much-frequented  ways. 

During  the  winter  there  came  the  news  of  his  father's  death, 
and  although  he  was  not  unprepared  for  it,  it  was  nevertheless 
a  great  grief  to  him,  as  the  following  letters  show. 

To  his  brother-in-law,  the  Hon.  Albert  S.  Berry :  — 

FLORENCE,  ITALY,  Jan.  18, 1882. 

Your  telegram  came  to  me  this  noon.  The  date  was  lost  from  it,  so  I  am 
not  sure  when  the  end  came.  If  my  mother  bears  it  badly  and  you  think 
seeing  me  would  be  a  consolation  to  her,  please  telegraph  me  at  any  moment. 
...  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  I  deplore  my  absence.  If  it  were  for  any 
private  gain  I  should  curse  the  day  I  set  my  foot  on  ship  and  put  half  the 
world  between  me  and  home.  The  parting  is  harder  to  bear  than  I  thought 
it  would  be.  I  know  that  he  wished  for  death  and  that  death  was  the  only 


ITALY  — DEATH  OF  HIS  FATHER  301 

help  the  world  held  for  him.  Yet  now  that  it  has  come  I  feel  as  if  much  of 
the  good  of  life  has  gone  with  him.  Time  will  wear  this  down,  nothing  is 
permanent  with  man,  still  a  great  change  will  always  rest  upon  our  lives 
who  knew  him  for  father.  ...  I  cannot  thank  you  enough  for  your  cease- 
less kindness  in  our  great  trial. 

To  his  mother :  — 

FLORENCE,  ITALY,  Jan.  18, 1882. 

I  would  that  I  could  have  been  with  you  when  the  end  came.  I  have  never 
so  grieved  over  our  parting  as  I  have  done  this  day.  I  hope  you  will  make 
nothing  of  the  distance,  but  let  me  come  to  you  if  I  can  be  of  any  comfort 
to  you.  ...  I  so  hope  that  the  end  was  in  peace  and  that  you  have  courage 
to  bear  the  blow.  I  know  that  it  will  be  hard  to  bear,  for  I  feel  myself  that  it 
is  a  sore  trial,  though  we  have  so  long  awaited  it  and  know  so  well  that  it  is 
for  the  best.  Let  us  take  heart  in  the  surety  of  that  meeting  beyond  the 
earth  that  should  help  us  to  bear  all  partings  here.  When  we  parted,  he 
told  me  that  he  longed  for  the  end  that  he  might  no  longer  suffer  from  the 
confusion  of  mind  that  beset  him.  .  .  . 

In  his  books  Mr.  Shaler  ordinarily  wrote  so  philosophically  of 
death  that  to  those  who  knew  his  devoted  nature,  it  seemed 
almost  as  if  upon  such  occasions  he  made  an  effort  to  chill  his 
deeper  emotions.  It  must  be  said,  however,  that  in  the  course 
of  his  life  he  had  been  called  upon  to  mourn  those  only,  who, 
either  because  of  disease  or  the  limitations  of  years,  had  ended 
their  days  at  a  timely  moment.  For  all  the  largeness  of  his 
conception  of  life  and  death  we  can  but  believe  that,  in  face  of 
the  supreme  bereavement,  philosophy  would  have  been  to  him, 
as  to  others,  a  cold  comforter.  In  other  words,  when  the  man 
of  science  holds  the  pen  there  is  a  sense  of  the  sufficiency  of 
philosophy,  but  when  the  poet  writes  there  is  the  cry  of  the 
heart.  In  his  "Elizabeth"  he  speaks  of  — 

That  sorrow  vast  and  vain  for  ages  gone 
For  beauty  turned  to  dust ;  for  voices  still 
That  waked  forgotten  love  to  ecstasy, 
For  all  the  souls  we  know  kin  to  our  own 
With  whom  we  never  can  exchange  a  cry 
Across  the  gulf  that  parts  us. 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

r  F 


302  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

In  the  notes  which  Mr.  Shaler  kept  while  in  Italy  is  ample 
record  of  his  outdoor  experiences.  His  scientific  observations 
and  those  concerned  with  human  nature  are  closely  interwoven, 
for  here  as  everywhere  the  scientist  and  the  humanist  marched 
together.  Since  the  lack  of  space  compels  a  choice  between  the 
two,  we  shall  give  extracts  dealing  more  particularly  with  men 
and  the  picturesque  aspects  of  Italian  life;  for  these  subjects 
seem  in  a  way  to  be  nearer  to  him. 

The  first  walk  he  describes  was  that  which  led  to  Impruneta. 

Most  travellers  in  Italy  know  Florence,  but  few  are  sagacious  enough  to 
give  time  for  journeys  in  its  environs.  .  .  .  Within  twenty  miles  around 
there  is  the  Italy  of  the  middle  ages  with  its  face  unchanged,  as  unlike  the 
Haussmannized  city  as  the  fourteenth  century  is  unlike  our  own.  There  are 
roads  that  look  as  they  did  when  they  bore  the  armies  of  Rome,  and  villages 
that  Dante  would  find  in  nothing  different  from  what  they  were  when  he 
saw  hell  beneath  their  pavements  and  a  better  flame  in  the  blue  sky  above. 
.  .  .  Let  me  premise  that  these  journeys  should  be  made  afoot,  or  if  that 
is  not  possible,  in  the  little  native  two-wheeled  gigs.  If  the  stranger  goes 
in  a  city  carriage  he  carries  with  him  an  atmosphere  of  disenchantment  — 
a  sort  of  cock-crow  that  sends  the  mystery  away  from  his  path.  The  beggar 
and  the  innkeeper  mark  him  for  their  own.  Every  group  of  peasants  dis- 
solves and  the  people  face  about  to  gape  at  the  English  milor  and  speculate 
on  him.  Even  the  hills  and  walls  look  unnatural.  The  people  are  always 
sensitive  to  anything  like  obtrusive  observation,  for  among  this  singularly 
sensitive  folk  the  least  onlooking  freezes  them  into  stolidity.  .  .  . 

I  left  Florence  before  sunrise  of  a  winter's  morning  when  the  snow-clad 
hills  were  still  sending  their  tides  of  nipping  air  into  the  green  valleys  below. 
The  streets  and  roads  of  the  town  were  white  with  hoar  frost,  and  at  the 
Porta  Romana  the  peasants,  waiting  with  their  loads  of  wine  and  oil  for 
the  slow  process  of  the  octroi  officers,  were  crowded  around  a  fire  of  straw 
or  dancing  with  antic  gyres  to  keep  their  slow  blood  in  motion.  These 
Italian  skies  light  wonderfully  at  dawn.  At  evening  there  is  want  of  cloud 
to  enrich  the  vault,  but  in  the  coming  of  day  the  light  floods  the  upper  air, 
which  though  transparent  is  vaporous,  and  seems  to  set  it  afire.  This  gold 
of  the  heavens  came  lower  and  lower  until  it  caught  the  hilltops  at  Certosa 
two  miles  out;  the  dawn  was  just  catching  the  spires  and  roofs  in  its  glory 
while  the  river  Arno  held  the  night  in  its  vapors.  I  have  never  seen  this  effect 
of  sun-bathed  hilltops  so  perfect  in  any  other  place.  It  turned  the  ancient 
monastery  into  something  favored  of  heaven,  and  despite  the  want  of  favor 


A  WALK  TO  IMPRUNETA  303 

for  all  things  monkish  that  comes  to  those  who  know  Italy  well,  I  could  not 
help  feeling  that  there  must  be  a  holy  ghost,  a  gift  of  things  unspeakable 
descending  in  this  flood  of  light.  Near  by  is  an  avenue  of  cypresses  that  climb 
a  long  hill  toward  the  east,  going  from  the  stream  to  the  summit.  These 
Italian  cypresses  are  the  most  monumental  of  trees;  stiff  as  a  Lombardy 
poplar,  they  want  grace  and  give  none  of  that  sense  of  enduring  shelter 
that  belongs  to  our  Northern  trees,  but  like  all  trees  they  have  a  perfect 
fitness  for  their  landscape.  Here  the  best  use  of  a  tree  is  to  look  monumental. 
These  cypresses  are  tiresome  things  when  they  grow  wild ;  they  look  like  the 
trees  of  Noah's  Ark,  but  in  an  avenue  they  are  like  the  propylsea  of  a  temple. 

At  the  bridge  over  the  Arno  I  stopped  to  watch  the  stream  of  folk  going 
to  the  city.  An  Italian  town  lives  from  day  to  day,  so  each  morning  the 
carts  stream  in  full  of  all  sorts  of  stores.  They  are  vehicles  of  two  thousand 
years  ago,  two-wheeled,  of  a  form  that  we  may  sometimes  see  carved  on 
Roman  monuments ;  the  horses  and  donkeys  weighed  down  with  gear  that 
helps  nothing  save  their  picturesqueness.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  I  saw  con- 
tributions to  almost  every  natural  need  —  wood,  charcoal,  heaps  of  faggots 
for  the  brief  fire  that  the  Italians  use  for  cooking,  crates  of  wine  and  oil, 
wagons  with  boards  stacked  up  like  hay  in  a  lattice  of  wooden  strips;  and 
with  them  a  host  of  sturdy,  cold,  pinched  men  munching  their  breakfast  of 
wine  and  bread  as  they  went. 

In  the  corners  of  the  houses  where  the  sun's  rays  were  coming  the  people 
huddled  like  barnyard  fowls  taking  the  enlivening  warmth.  .  .  .  There  are 
few  small  dwellings  and  these  of  rather  recent  date.  The  greater  part  of 
the  dwellings  are  really  strongholds  that  could  easily  be  held  even  in  modern 
war  against  anything  but  artillery.  The  love  of  strong  construction  that  the 
ages  of  fear  imposed  on  the  people  makes  even  the  modern  houses  keep 
to  the  fortress  type.  Up  on  the  rolling  table-land  I  find  people  at  work  in 
the  field.  The  Tuscan  is  as  good  a  spader  as  the  Irishman.  He  is  an  earth- 
lover.  There  is  no  end  to  the  brawny  patience  with  which  he  cares  for  the 
fat  valley  lands  where  his  vines  and  mulberry  trees  share  the  ground  with 
grain,  or  gives  to  the  rescuing  of  some  profit  from  the  rocky  hillsides  above. 
The  men  and  women  work  together  in  the  fields.  At  this  season  they  are 
spading  the  richer  spaces  between  the  mulberry  trees  for  their  spring  vege- 
tables. A  straight-handled  spade,  the  staff  six  feet  or  so  long,  is  driven  into 
the  ground,  the  handle  is  shaken  to  and  fro  in  a  rhythmic  swing,  and  the 
slow,  steady  motion  gives  time  for  the  melodious  chatter  that  seasons  all 
labor  in  this  cheerful  land. 

In  three  miles  of  way  I  have  passed  through  several  clusters  of  villas,  the 
summer  homes  of  Florentines.  The  habit  of  having  a  country  as  well  as  a 
town  house  is  older  here  than  in  any  other  land,  and  to  the  close  association 


304     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

it  brings  between  the  town  and  country  folk  is  attributable  much  of  the 
good  relations  that  maintain  between  the  wealthy  and  the  poor.  The  ten- 
antry hold  the  land  on  the  metayer  system,  the  most  perfect  tenant  system 
that  has  ever  been  devised.  The  landowner  furnishes  the  land,  the  seed, 
the  beasts,  and  the  few  tools  that  the  work  requires.  When  the  crop  is  gath- 
ered he  receives  half  in  kind.  The  rest  goes  to  the  tiller.  It  is  easy  to  see 
that  this  is  a  true  partnership,  and  that  the  vexed  and  vexing  things  that 
come  with  rack-rents  are  avoided.  If  the  heavens  favor  the  crop  both  peasant 
and  lord  share  the  increase.  In  times  of  bad  seasons  they  share  the  hard- 
ships. As  long  as  a  tiller  is  faithful  to  the  work  the  proprietor  has  no  interest 
in  change ;  given  the  inequalities  that  must  exist  between  rich  and  poor, 
this  system  is  the  best  that  can  be  found  for  lessening  the  hardships.  We 
see  its  results  in  the  easy  courtesy  that  rules  both  classes.  If  you  speak 
to  a  peasant  he  meets  you  with  a  smile  and  a  bow ;  no  cringing,  no  sense 
of  difference  marks  your  talk  with  him.  The  droll  land  pride  of  the  French 
peasant,  and  the  cloddy  quality  of  the  English  laborer,  are  alike  absent. 
There  is  an  easy  swing  about  his  social  contact  that  is  hard  to  describe. 

Impruneta  is  a  village  of  two  or  three  thousand  people  gathered  about  a 
fine  old  Tuscan  church  with  solemn  monumental  outer  walls  and  a  fine 
unbroken  tower,  windowless  up  to  the  bell  clock.  Though  outwardly  a 
mean  heap  of  masonry,  the  church  is  rich  within.  The  town  is  gathered 
about  the  church,  and  the  church  is  gathered  about  a  wonderful  figure  of 
the  Virgin. 

At  Impruneta  I  met  by  appointment  my  guide  to  whom  I  was  commended. 
I  had  been  assured  that  he  was  quite  insane  in  a  harmless  way,  but  that  he 
knew  the  nooks  and  crannies  of  the  hills  for  many  miles  about;  guides  are 
rare  in  Italy,  and  except  from  the  shepherds  within  range  of  their  sheep 
walks,  it  is  hard  to  get  any  advice  concerning  the  mountain  paths.  My  guide 
looked  his  reputation.  He  was  an  unkempt,  fantastic  old  fellow  who,  from 
the  time  I  appeared  around  the  corner  of  the  road  until  I  left  him  at  sun- 
down, poured  on  me  a  torrent  of  rural  Tuscan  that  was  wonderful  to  hear. 
Save  when  I  succeeded  in  avoiding  him  on  some  very  steep  hill  I  had  no 
respite  from  the  deluge  of  his  conversation.  Even  then  the  rest  was  brief, 
for  by  those  skilled  in  this  liquid  speech  a  cubic  inch  of  air  can  be  whipped 
by  the  tongue  into  an  amazing  lather  of  sound.  Despite  the  badgering  he 
gave  me,  which  was  the  sorer  because  I  am  accustomed  to  walk  alone,  this 
old  fellow  was  mightily  interesting.  He  had  patched-up  opinions  on  every- 
thing and  had  a  curiosity  that  was  a  devouring  flame.  He  looked  almost 
bloodthirsty  when  I  failed  to  stand  and  deliver  an  answer  to  his  thousand 
and  one  questions.  It  was  clear  that  his  insanity  came  from  a  violent  acces- 
sion of  the  philosophic  desire  to  know. 


A  WALK  TO  IMPRUNETA  305 

In  the  course  of  my  day  I  managed  to  see  the  industries  that  support  this 
well-conditioned  village.  The  land  about  it  is  so  poor  that  it  cannot  do  much 
more  than  feed  itself ;  indeed  but  for  the  Madonna  there  would  never  have 
been  a  town  here  at  all.  The  burden  of  life  is  carried  on  straw  braid.  The 
women  and  children  do  this  work ;  the  men  are  busied  in  preparing  the  straw 
with  various  dyeing  and  softening  processes  for  the  work  of  the  hands. 
There  are  also  some  potteries.  It  was  curious  to  notice  that  the  forms  of 
the  vessels  have  not  changed  since  ancient  times.  It  is  only  when  the  people 
begin  to  consider  the  foreign  market  that  they  get  a  modern  flavor  in  their 
work.  The  great  amphorae,  each  big  enough  to  hold  several  middle-sized 
thieves,  particularly  fixed  my  attention.  The  people  of  this  land  have  never 
become  reconciled  to  the  barrel.  One  rarely  sees  hooped  vessels  of  any  form, 
and  they  are  generally  tubs.  I  have  never  seen  a  cask  on  duty  that  would  hold 
over  fifteen  gallons,  and  these  are  of  a  flattened  form  and  show  that  the  prin- 
ciple of  the  barrel  has  never  been  understood.  The  same  is  the  case  with  the 
wheelbarrow;  this,  though  an  invention  of  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  has  never 
taken  in  Italy.  No  room  is  found  here  for  the  machinery  of  life  that  has  been 
invented  in  this  century.  Simple  as  the  life  is,  it  is  cast  in  an  iron  mould. 

After  my  tramp  about  Impruneta  I  found  my  way  into  a  little  country 
inn  where  a  provision  of  bread,  eggs,  and  sausages  was  after  much  din 
brought  out  of  the  darkness.  My  guide  ate  with  me  and  had  the  best  of  the 
appetite  as  he  had  of  the  conversation.  It  was  wonderful  to  see  how  he, 
though  a  little  man,  could  do  trencher  work  while  he  lectured  me  on  all  con- 
ceivable things.  A  flask  of  wine  and  half  a  grindstone  of  bread  went  to  support 
his  loquacity.  With  all  his  wolf-like  hunger  there  was  a  certain  grace  in  his 
table-manners  that  would  have  been  sought  in  vain  among  Northern  people 
of  the  same  class.  The  landlord  was  a  Garibaldian ;  the  only  picture  in  the 
house  was  one  of  this  hero  and  when  I  took  off  my  hat  to  it  he  almost  em- 
braced me.  It  is  good  to  see  the  intensity  of  the  devotion  to  this  man  of 
the  people.  Unfortunately  devotion  to  him  means  a  separation  from  the 
old  rule  of  the  church,  and  this  rule,  however  evil  in  many  ways,  cannot 
be  destroyed  without  leaving  their  uneducated  minds  hopelessly  adrift.  .  .  . 

My  guide  led  me  to  his  house,  entered  through  dark  and  unsavory  ways 
and  several  ladderlike  steps.  The  larger  room  was  the  place  of  abode,  and 
the  shop  where  he  earns  a  pittance  in  carving  out  little  blocks  of  the  beautiful 
serpentines  which  I  came  to  study.  By  the  fireplace,  where  probably  there 
had  been  a  fire  some  centuries  ago,  before  the  forest  was  stripped  away,  sat 
two  women,  his  wife  and  daughter.  Both  were  pinched-looking  and  still, 
except  that  their  fingers  were  nimbly  at  work  pleating  straw,  their  morn- 
ing's work,  several  yards  in  length,  lying  in  bright  yellow  curls  at  their  feet. 
The  walls  black  with  the  slow  coloring  that  centuries  give,  the  stone  floor, 


306     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

the  sunless  aspect  of  things,  made  it  as  forbidding  a  dwelling  as  one  often 
sees.  The  place  seemed  very  old ;  its  present  inmates  may  have  been  the  last 
of  half  a  hundred  tenants  of  its  sombre  space.  The  memory  turns  with 
pleasure  from  these  tomb-like  dwellings,  from  the  momentary  prisoners 
of  the  place,  to  the  frontiersman's  log  cabin,  or  the  New  England  wooden 
cottage,  that  thoroughly  belongs  to  its  possessor,  fits  his  momentary  needs, 
and  is  as  much  a  part  of  his  individuality  as  a  snake's  skin  or  the  burrow 
of  a  rabbit.  All  modern  Italy  is  in  the  prison  of  antiquity. 

After  I  had  enriched  my  guide  by  purchasing  a  lot  of  his  polished  stones 
we  went  again  into  the  fields.  .  .  .  The  serpentines  at  Impruneta  are  sin- 
gularly varied  in  their  structure  and  of  wonderful  beauty.  In  no  small 
acquaintance  with  stones  I  have  never  seen  more  beautiful  bits  than  can 
be  found  here.  When  polished  they  are  natural  mosaics.  Yet  they  are  and 
always  have  been  quite  unused.  This  people  have  so  little  sense  of  natural 
beauty  that  they  would  always  prefer  a  Roman  scarf  to  a  rainbow. 

Before  the  day  at  Impruneta  was  ended  I  climbed  a  hill  that  gave  a  fine 
view  to  the  southwest.  Travelling  in  the  valleys  of  Italy  one  is  apt  to  con- 
ceive it  as  a  very  fertile  land ;  such  it  is  near  the  streams  and  on  some  of  the 
mountain-spurs,  but  from  the  highlands  we  look  over  vast  wastes  of  sterile 
mountains  that  give  only  a  scanty  pasture  to  little  flocks  of  sheep  and  goats. 
Even  in  this  garden  region  of  Tuscany  the  average  fertility  is  less  than  that 
of  New  Hampshire.  On  my  walk  I  fell  in  with  some  woodcutters  at  their 
mid-day  meal,  to  which  they  were  reclining  on  couches  of  brush;  a  loaf  of 
bread  in  the  substantial  form  of  a  small  grindstone,  and  Florence  flasks  of 
the  reddened  water  that  does  duty  here  for  wine,  was  their  diet.  This  three 
times  a  day,  with  some  bits  of  pork  or  mutton  on  feast  days,  makes  the  staple 
of  their  food.  Yet  they  are  a  capitally  conditioned  race.  They  are  never  tall, 
rarely  misshapen,  but  a  remarkably  even,  serviceable-looking  lot  of  men 
and  women.  The  women  I  met  in  my  roving  walks,  which  led  us  by  small 
households,  were  all  busy  with  their  straw-weaving  and  seemed  to  have  no 
household  cares.  The  bread  is  baked  by  the  baker  and  the  wine  is  made  once 
a  year.  This  is  the  staple  of  all  meals  that  have  been  eaten  by  the  peasant 
since  before  the  time  of  Rome.  The  warming  of  the  household  is  carried  on 
by  means  of  a  pot  of  ashes  with  a  live  coal  buried  in  it ;  at  the  start  it  is  urged 
to  its  fiery  course  by  means  of  a  small  paper  fan.  When  well  alight  it  will 
give  out  about  as  much  heat  as  a  small  kitten ;  but  by  nursing  it  in  their 
hands  and  putting  it  under  their  garments  the  aged  women  seem  to  keep 
warm  enough  to  braid  straw  and  gossip. 

The  next  tramp  of  which  there  are  notes  is  in  the  region 
between  Prato  and  Monte  Ferrato. 


TUSCAN  MOUNTAINS  307 

January  25, 1882. 

.  .  .  My  aim  was  to  see  some  masses  of  serpentine  that  lie  near  Figline,  a 
hamlet  a  few  miles  northwest  of  Prato.  These  make  the  mountain-mass  cf 
Monte  Ferrato,  or  the  iron  mountain.  Before  noon  I  found  myself  shut  in 
the  bushy  valleys  of  this  set  of  curious  hills  that  have  furnished  the  decora- 
tive stone  for  the  incrustation  of  the  Florentine  churches.  Like  all  the  other 
mountains  of  Tuscany  these  hills  were  stripped  of  their  woods  during  the 
reigns  of  the  grand  dukes.  When  the  Austrians  came  they  set  to  work  to 
restore  the  forests,  but  the  soil  had  wasted  away  so  that  it  was  hard  to  regain 
what  has  been  lost ;  still  in  the  splintered  serpentines  of  these  hills  hardy  spe- 
cies of  pines  were  growing  in  the  ordered  rows  of  a  planted  wood.  Through 
them  I  climbed  to  the  summit,  about  fifteen  hundred  feet  above  the  sea. 
The  only  human  interest  I  found  was  a  new  nunnery  tucked  away  in  the 
shrubby  trees.  After  the  general  destruction  of  all  cloistered  places  by 
the  Italian  government  some  years  ago,  a  holocaust  that  left  only  a  few  of 
the  greater  historic  places  and  these  shorn  of  their  ancient  grandeur,  there 
seemed  for  a  time  an  end  of  their  life  in  Italy,  but  now  they  are  here  and 
there  creeping  back  into  a  little  vitality.  At  the  gateway  of  this  new  cloister 
were  two  figures,  one  of  Christ  and  the  other  of  the  Virgin,  which  for  artistic 
abominableness  exceeded  any  human  images  that  I  ever  saw.  Nothing  is 
more  curious  than  the  incapacity  of  the  Roman  Church  to  hold  to  its  art 
traditions ;  when  in  this  day,  in  this  land,  steeped  for  centuries  in  art  influ- 
ences, they  try  to  present  something  artistic,  the  chance  is  that  their  work 
is  much  more  hair-lifting  than  what  we  should  find  in  Arkansas.  In  the  whole 
field  of  human  psychology  I  know  nothing  more  puzzling  than  this  utter  loss 
of  power  to  retain  the  art  training  which  we  find  here.  From  the  contempla- 
tion of  this  brutal  Christ  and  stupid  Virgin  it  was  a  luxury  to  escape  to  the 
hillsides,  though  a  walk  through  a  pine  brushwood  is  not  more  fascinating 
here  than  elsewhere. 

It  is  wonderful  how  hot  a  Tuscan  winter  noonday  can  be ;  in  the  morning 
I  walked  on  ground  frozen  almost  hard  enough  to  bear  up  the  feet,  at  noon 
the  south  hillsides  were  as  hot  as  of  a  summer  day,  even  the  earth  felt  hot 
on  the  surface.  On  the  top  of  the  hill  was  the  ruin  of  some  very  ancient  build- 
ing, quite  tumbled  to  its  foundations.  On  the  old  platform  where  it  stood 
there  was  a  scant  grass-grown  soil,  and  here  a  score  of  ragged  sheep  were 
nibbling  while  an  ancient  shepherd  watched  their  hungry  scrambles  over 
the  mounds  of  stone.  It  was  an  epitome  of  Italy,  an  aged  man  and  an  aged 
art,  whose  ruins  gave  a  pittance  to  a  dwarfed  life.  The  old  fellow  gave  me 
a  long  history  of  the  edifice,  which  amounted  to  this :  it  was  an  old  ruin  and 
no  one  knew  anything  about  it.  He  told  his  tale  in  a  slow  quaver  of  voice. 
His  speech  was  a  pure  ancient  Tuscan,  which  I  thought  much  more  like  the 


308  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

language  of  Dante  than  that  of  the  city  or  even  the  village  folk.  The  most 
wonderful  thing  about  him  was  his  cloak.  These  shepherd  cloaks  are  of  the 
fashion  set  by  Jacob.  I  believe  that  they  may  have  existed  as  garmental 
entities  since  the  time  of  the  CaBsars,  renewed  each  year  in  parts,  but  peren- 
nial as  wholes ;  their  system  of  construction  gives  them  no  natural  end,  they 
may  outlast  a  race. 

It  is  the  time  of  carnival,  and  some  special  saint's  day  has  doubled  the 
obligation  to  make  a  noise.  All  the  while  I  was  upon  the  hills  there  came 
from  the  invisible  villages  which  were  crowded  in  the  narrow  valleys  at 
their  feet  an  almost  ceaseless  ringing  of  church  bells.  These  narrow  valleys 
carried  a  sound  of  bells  for  great  distances.  After  you  have  walked  for  hours 
in  hills,  wild  and  remote  looking  as  those  of  Colorado,  the  rhythmic  beat 
of  some  church  chime  will  start  in  the  air  about  you  and  appear  to  come 
from  every  side.  The  effect  is  singularly  awe-inspiring,  for  the  sound  seems 
ethereal,  such  as  the  skies  might  send  down. 

There  are  considerable  quarries  in  these  hills,  but  in  them  the  modern 
contrivances  of  cranes  and  tramways  are  unknown ;  except  that  a  little  gun- 
powder is  used  there  is  no  difference  between  the  present  methods  and  those 
of  the  most  ancient  days. 

Descending  to  the  east  of  the  mountain,  I  came  into  a  valley  watered  by  a 
swift,  clear  stream.  I  followed  the  stream  toward  the  plain,  passing  through 
the  village  of  Figline,  where  there  was  a  great  crowd  by  the  bridge,  watching 
with  bucolic  interest  the  process  of  butchering  some  well-grown  pigs.  In 
this,  as  in  everything  else,  the  country  people  showed  their  utter  want  of 
contrivance.  The  dead  beasts  lay  sprawled  in  the  mud  while  the  butchers 
were  trying  to  remove  the  hair  by  wisps  of  burning  straw,  or  to  clean  them 
in  the  same  uncomfortable  position.  I  wish  the  social  philosophers  would  tell 
us  why  inventiveness  increases  with  the  latitude  and  finds  its  zero  at  the 
equator.  It  is  not  a  matter  of  willingness  to  labor,  for  I  have  never  seen  a 
more  devotedly  industrious  people  than  these  Tuscans;  they  have  quick 
minds,  are  pliant  and  fertile  in  speech,  fairly  introspective,  and  yet  they 
meet  the  world  of  fact  in  a  dumb,  helpless  way. 

So  intent  was  Figline  on  the  pig-killing  that  I  slipped  through  the  crowd 
without  being  observed.  Neither  my  look  of  northern  forests  —  all  for- 
eigners are  forestieri,  or  men  of  the  woods,  to  these  people  —  nor  my  ham- 
mer, bag,  and  maps  caught  the  intent  eye  of  the  people,  who  usually  per- 
ceive the  stranger  afar  off.  Soon  after  leaving  the  village,  the  brook  I  had 
followed  for  some  miles  and  with  which  I  had  fallen  quite  in  love  ceased  its 
noise  and  began  to  creep  silently  over  the  plains.  On  either  side  were  dykes, 
at  first  low  but  growing  higher  until  the  stream  stalked  along  on  stilts  with 
its  bed  of  rolled  stones  above  the  level  of  the  grain-fields  between  which  it 


THE  NEW  ITALY  309 

passed.  This  battle  with  the  mountain  streams  makes  the  tillage  of  the  Ital- 
ian alluvial  plains  a  costly  matter  —  costlier  than  the  Hollanders'  fight  with 
the  sea.  The  root  of  the  difficulty  lies  in  the  want  of  protecting  forests  in  the 
hills.  The  rocks  are  soft  and  break  to  pieces  rapidly,  there  being  no  mat  of 
roots  to  hold  them  fast ;  while  they  are  decaying  into  soil  they  are  tumbled 
down  by  the  floods  in  such  masses  that  they  gorge  the  river  channels.  .  .  . 
It  will  take  centuries  of  forethoughtful  labor  to  restore  the  forests  to  these 
Tuscan  mountains,  and  so  restore  the  river-systems  to  their  natural  state. 
I  came  back  from  Prato  to  Florence  in  one  of  the  slow-coach  local  trains. 
In  the  carriage  I  found  a  young  Italian  reading  a  German  book.  The  sight 
was  sufficiently  rare  to  lead  me  to  seek  conversation  with  my  travelling- 
companion,  and  he  proved  to  be  a  very  intelligent  man,  one  of  the  new 
Italy  that  is  full  of  hope  and  gives  one's  confidence  in  the  race  a  great  lift; 
keen,  clear-minded,  with  a  desire  to  have  his  country  even  with  the  world. 
The  young  Italian,  though  not  a  frequent,  is  a  very  comfortable,  spectacle  to 
those  who  desire  the  best  future  of  his  people.  .  .  .  Farther  along  I  made 
occasion  to  have  parleys  with  some  of  the  country  folk  I  met  upon  the  way. 
They  are  the  deftest  people  in  casual  rencontre  I  have  ever  seen ;  they  have 
an  ease  in  contact  with  a  man  of  strange  nationality  that  one  rarely  finds 
among  provincial  peoples;  in  fact  they  are  less  provincial  than  any  folk  I 
ever  saw.  My  Italian  is  very  bad  and  my  looks  excessively  foreign  to  this 
land,  yet  I  never  saw  my  strangeness  mirrored  in  their  eyes.  I  had  a  tilt  in 
politeness  with  one  old  clumsy-looking  peasant;  we  bowed  and  exchanged 
courtesies  of  grimace  in  which  I  did  my  best,  but  the  ancient  rustic  went 
me  better  in  every  effort  to  show  mutual  consideration,  all  with  the  gravity 
of  a  Chesterfield.  After  every  day  spent  with  them  in  the  field  I  come  back 
more  convinced  that  there  is  a  power  under  the  hidebound  life  of  these  peo- 
ple that  will  yet  find  its  place  in  the  world. 

Above  Certosa :  — 

February  3, 1882. 

The  Via  Romana  clings  in  the  valleys  for  many  miles  south  of  Florence, 
and  most  travellers  pass  through  it  because  of  its  historic  associations,  but 
they  rarely  take  the  steep  zigzag  roads  that  lead  up  from  the  banks  of  the 
Arno  to  the  beautiful  rolling  highlands  that  lie  on  either  hand.  The  day  I 
took  the  road  up  on  to  this  table-land  was  one  of  those  when  the  Tuscan 
winter  lapses  into  spring.  It  was  still  February,  but  the  violets  dim  and  the 
daffodils,  which  in  England,  Shakespeare  tells  us,  "take  the  winds  of  March 
with  beauty,"  were  known  in  earth  and  air.  From  a  sheltered  corner  a 
froward  poppy  looked  out  over  the  wheat-field  that  was  still  the  soft  grassy 
tangle  that  precedes  the  shooting  stems.  For  some  days  the  permanent 


310     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

leaves  of  the  olive  had  been  brightening  their  green.  In  the  cold  days  of 
January  they  looked  very  sere,  but  now  they  were  getting  the  sap  back ; 
they  were  no  longer  curled  and  twisted  by  their  emptiness,  but  were  as  full 
of  life  as  the  plumage  of  a  bird.  At  its  best  the  foliage  of  the  olive  is 
very  beautiful ;  the  feathery,  tufty  masses  scarcely  dense  enough  to  make 
a  shade  have  a  certain  domesticity  and  peacefulness  of  look  I  know  in  no 
other  tree. 

On  the  thinner  upland  regions  the  olive  replaces  the  mulberry.  It  is 
never  trained,  for  it  is  not  such  a  vegetable  donkey  as  the  mulberry,  but  must 
follow  its  bent;  between  these  lines  of  trees  the  vines  are  planted.  The  work- 
men are  now  at  work,  giving  the  twigs  of  the  vine  their  appointed  attitudes 
in  the  branches.  In  the  distance  each  of  these  binders  of  the  vine  looks  like 
one  of  Lord  Monboddo's  caudal  men,  for  from  his  back  depends  a  fringed 
tail,  which  nearer  inspection  shows  to  be  a  bunch  of  willows  for  the  work 
of  sustaining  the  vines.  Wherever  a  stream  makes  the  ground  moist  we 
may  see  rows  of  willows,  now  very  red,  since  the  sap  has  given  new  life  to 
their  bark ;  each  twig  is  as  full-looking  as  a  cow's  udder. 

If  we  look  closely  at  the  structure  of  the  great  villas  that  dot  the  landscape 
we  can  see  that  they  are  built  for  this  peculiar  agriculture ;  they  have  a  vast 
amount  of  open  archways  and  finely  ventilated  lofts.  I  like  these  villas  as 
country  places  much  more  than  the  English  country  house.  In  the  villa  the 
utilities,  in  its  spacious  clean  courts,  arched  granges,  and  other  offices,  pass 
by  insensible  gradations  into  the  state  and  elegance  of  the  mansion;  and, 
above  all,  the  dark  loggia  facing  the  north  suggests  this  perennial  freedom 
of  the  outer  air.  Yet  there  is  one  sore  need  in  this  nearly  perfect  landscape. 
For  some  time  I  was  puzzled  that  amid  so  much  beauty  there  should  be 
a  strange  sense  of  desolation.  This  is  because  there  is  never  a  trace  of  a  beast 
in  the  open  air,  save  in  labor.  I  have  walked  some  hundreds  of  miles  in  Tus- 
cany and  have  not  yet  seen  a  cow.  Where  the  mothers  of  these  stately  oxen 
live  is  more  than  I  can  imagine.  There  is  none  of  that  charming  sense  of 
domesticity  in  country  life  that  comes  with  the  sight  of  the  passive  flocks 
and  green  pastures.  We  do  not  know  how  much  we  miss  in  its  loss  until 
in  this  country  we  find  its  value  by  its  absence.  There  are  no  pasture  fields 
in  Tuscany.  Where  Nature  denies  everything  but  a  few  tufts  of  grass  among 
the  stones,  the  shepherd  drives  his  sheep,  which  eat  the  little  there  is,  and 
move  on;  the  sheep  go  like  grasshoppers  over  the  ground,  there  not  being 
enough  to  keep  them  still.  Even  the  donkeys  are  more  than  usually  cowed; 
their  bray  is  a  melancholy  sound,  and  though  there  may  be  a  dozen  of  them 
together  they  never  join  their  voices. 

I  find  these  high  hills,  with  a  russet  undergrowth  of  bushy  oaks  that  hold 
their  last  year's  leaves,  and  with  their  array  of  solitary  pines,  singularly 


A  NOBLE  GROUP  OF  MOUNTAINS  311 

charming.   Every  unnecessary  branch  is  cut  away  and  bound  into  faggots; 
the  cones  are  gathered  for  firewood.  .  .  . 

On  my  way  back  I  was  startled  by  one  of  those  processions  that  in  one 
fashion  or  another  tread  all  human  ways.  I  was  on  the  terrace  of  a  villa, 
gazing  at  the  distant  prospect,  when  from  the  door  of  a  house  there  appeared 
a  boy  with  a  banner  surmounted  by  a  cross;  next  after  him  an  old  priest 
with  his  book ;  then  a  bier  on  which  was  a  slight  uncoffined  body,  covered 
with  a  white  cloth.  This  bier  was  borne  by  four  young  peasant  women, 
dressed  in  their  holiday  attire,  and  each  carried  in  the  free  hand  a  white  wand, 
which  I  suppose  represented  the  usual  candle.  There  were  no  other  persons ; 
the  little  train  went  away  in  silence  toward  the  parish  church ;  their  bur- 
den seemed  easily  borne. 

Monte  Morello :  — 

February  27, 1882. 

Northwest  of  Florence  there  is  a  very  noble-looking  group  of  mountains 
known  as  Monte  Morello.  They  are  only  about  three  thousand  feet  high,  but 
their  steep  slopes  lead  with  noble  lines  from  the  plain,  so  that  they  are  grander 
than  many  mountains  that  labor  up  to  thrice  their  height  above  the  sea.  .  .  . 
In  times  of  storm,  when  the  clouds  enfold  them  and  their  deep  ravines  are 
full  of  abysmal  shadows,  they  seem  the  very  abodes  of  thunder.  In  the  clear 
day  their  gray  masses  rise  above  the  plain,  with  its  crowd  of  villages  and 
villas,  an  image  of  the  stern,  desolate  eternity  of  space  which  wraps  in  this 
little  skim  of  life  and  merriment  that  is  borne  upon  the  surface  of  the  world. 
...  I  know  no  greater  fortune  that  can  be  given  to  a  city  than  the  sight  of 
such  a  nobleness  of  unchangeable  nature.  The  only  thing  is  that  few  among 
its  people  ever  look  from  its  ways  up  to  the  throne  of  the  Infinite  that  stands 
beyond  the  gates. 

Alluding  to  a  scene  in  a  little  schoolroom,  where  the  children 
were  learning  an  arithmetic  lesson  and  at  the  same  time  keep- 
ing their  fingers  busy  plaiting  straw,  the  journal  continues: — 

This  excessive  laboriousness  does  not  seem  to  be  absolutely  a  thing  of  ne- 
cessity :  the  children  are  all  well  clad,  and  outside  of  the  cities  and  away  from 
the  alluvial  lands  they  look  the  picture  of  well-fed  contentment.  The  land 
system  assures  food  even  in  bad  seasons ;  every  farm,  nearly  every  field,  has 
wine,  wheat,  and  silk  for  its  products,  and  out  of  these  some  one  is  sure  to 
succeed.  This  ceaseless  toiling  is  partly  due  to  the  want  of  other  diverting 
activities;  the  mind  of  the  people  is  not  much  occupied  with  politics,  they 


312     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

are  without  the  least  tincture  of  the  reading  instinct,  so  what  force  they 
have  goes  to  practical  things. 

I  found  my  mountain  hard  to  get  access  to  on  account  of  the  wide  fringe 
of  walled  grounds  around  its  base.  At  length  despairing  of  flanking  these 
barriers,  I  asked  my  way  at  a  farmhouse.  At  first  I  found  only  a  boy  of  ten, 
who,  unlike  Italian  children  in  general,  was  afraid  of  the  stranger ;  he,  how- 
ever, was  induced  to  seek  his  elders,  and  the  mother,  though  evidently  doubt- 
ful, got  rid  of  me  by  pointing  the  way  to  a  footpath  that  led  through  the 
barnyard  and  gave  access  to  the  hills. 

The  way  for  a  mile  or  two  was  up  a  roaring  brook,  the  bed  of  which  was 
immensely  encumbered  with  the  wreck  of  the  rocks;  its  fall  was  steep,  and 
every  few  hundred  feet  there  was  a  great  masonry  wall  across  it,  some  of 
these  walls  superb  engineering  constructions.  The  view  was  singularly 
perfect.  Through  the  rocky  jaws  of  the  cliff  I  saw  a  foreground  of  olive 
orchards,  vines,  and  fine  houses;  half  a  mile  off  was  a  ruined  little  castle,  its 
single  tall  tower  with  half  its  battlements  fallen  away  and  its  keep  masked 
with  barns  and  out-houses.  .  .  . 

It  is  rare  in  Tuscany  that  we  find  a  picturesque  ruin  to  fill  any  foreground, 
and  the  complete  and  abounding  ruins  of  old  castles  that  are  so  common 
in  all  northern  Europe  seem  quite  unknown  here.  I  am  inclined  to  think 
that  the  reason  is  that  the  nobleman,  apart  from  the  town,  never  existed 
in  Italy  to  the  extent  that  he  did  in  northern  Europe.  Here  the  lord  was 
the  lord  of  towns  rather  than  of  castles.  Individually,  they  were  not  such  a 
militant  class  as  those  of  northern  countries.  The  little  cities  gave  the  pro- 
tection that  they  might  have  afforded,  and  so  the  ruins  of  their  strength 
and  state  do  not  so  plentifully  remain  upon  the  hilltops.  Something  also  is 
due  to  the  want  of  that  change  in  the  customs  of  life  that  has  caused  the 
dominant  class  of  the  North  to  desire  more  comfortable  abodes  and  led  them 
to  betake  themselves  to  modern  dwellings.  The  castles  that  remain  here  fit 
the  fashion  of  the  life;  their  darkness  and  sombreness  do  not  in  this  land  of 
sun  and  heat  unfit  them  for  the  tenancy  of  men. 

After  dinner  I  turned  myself  again  to  the  hillside.  It  was  very  steep,  but 
a  well-made  though  abandoned  path  crept  for  some  way  up  the  ravine. 
Where  a  little  earth  had  been  held  in  a  cranny  there  was  a  stunted  tree, 
planted  in  modern  times,  but  for  want  of  company  it  had  refused  to  do  much 
to  help  itself.  It  was  a  relief  to  get  above  these  forlorn  and  impotent  efforts 
of  man  to  repair  the  waste  of  other  centuries.  Although  the  absence  of  vege- 
tation gives  a  desolate  look  to  a  landscape,  it  has  for  the  geologist  much  in 
the  way  of  compensation.  I  could  now  see  in  the  bare  steeps  the  architecture 
of  the  mountain  which  I  came  to  study.  Looked  at  from  the  valley,  the 
structure  appeared  very  simple;  the  clearly  bedded  rocks  seemed  piled  one 


CLIMBING  MONTE  MORELLO  313 

on  top  of  the  other,  and  the  whole  tilted  toward  the  northwest  at  a  gentle 
angle;  up  here  I  can  see  that  the  strata  have  been  squeezed  about,  twisted 
and  overturned,  until  even  the  eye  practised  in  dissecting  such  knots  can 
hardly  discern  how  the  whole  is  put  together.  My  brethren  of  the  hammer 
are  given  to  the  notion  that  they  can  often  make  out  the  structure  of  a 
mountain,  where  the  rocks  are  well  exposed,  without  setting  foot  upon  it; 
but  they  will  be  easily  deceived,  for  it  happens  that  in  the  mountain  preci- 
pices the  rocks  at  certain  angles  will  mark  themselves  by  strong  lines  on  the 
hillsides,  while  those  of  other  degrees  of  slope  will  be  quite  masked  in  their 
own  debris.  Here  was  what  seemed  a  mile  or  two  away  a  perfectly  simple 
anatomy,  turned  into  a  problem  that  would  require  weeks  to  unravel  when 
seen  with  a  closer  eye. 

As  I  rose  near  the  summit  of  the  mountain  the  strong  gale,  from  which  I 
had  been  in  a  measure  protected  during  the  earlier  stages  of  the  ascent,  began 
to  baffle  me.  The  traces  of  snow  were  still  on  the  rocks,  and  the  air  from 
over  the  higher  mountains  was  very  cold  and  stifling  from  the  force  with 
which  it  beat  against  my  face.  When  I  came  within  a  hundred  feet  of  the 
top  I  could  no  longer  stand  against  it,  but  had  to  grimp  along  on  all  fours, 
dragging  my  satchel  and  plaid  as  I  went.  It  required  some  energy  to  get 
into  a  state  for  observation,  for  the  wind  was  strong  enough  to  blow  pebbles 
of  a  dangerous  size  up  over  the  ledge  of  the  mountain.  The  scene  was  noble 
enough  to  overcome  the  discomfort.  All  around  lay  the  mountains  of  Tuscany. 
In  the  west  lay  the  fantastic  peaks  of  Carrara,  the  most  thoroughly  indi- 
vidualized mountains  in  all  Europe ;  they  do  not  look  like  mountains,  but  are 
shaped  rather  like  the  curious  frost  work  that  forms  on  the  moist  soil  of  a 
morning  in  early  winter ;  they  do  not  belong  to  any  of  the  recognized  orders 
of  mountain  architecture  which  are  well  determined. 

The  most  beautiful  effect  is  given  by  the  deep  gorges  that  scar  all  these 
hills ;  the  sun,  now  oblique  and  near  its  setting,  filled  them  with  purplish- 
black  shadows,  while  all  that  lay  in  the  sun  was  of  a  vivid  reddish  gray  that 
belongs  to  the  limestone  rocks.  This  gamut  of  color  is  one  I  have  never  seen 
in  any  other  land,  and  I  suppose  to  its  strangeness  must  be  attributed  the 
unearthliness  of  the  effect.  The  lonely,  sharp  peak,  the  desolate,  strangely 
colored  landscape,  the  surging  wind  that  seemed  trying  to  sweep  me  off 
into  space,  all  tended  to  raise  that  deep  sense  of  mystery  and  fear  that  ever 
underlies  our  minds.  The  commonplace  sense  of  our  daily  life  usually  pro- 
tects us  from  this  strangest  and  most  terrible  of  all  emotions,  so  that  many 
know  it  only  in  dreams.  Sometimes,  by  night  on  the  picket  line,  in  the  face 
of  an  active  enemy,  when  the  darkness  suddenly  seemed  to  become  all  alive, 
or  when  exploring  alone  in  some  newly  opened  cavern,  I  have  felt  this  sense 
of  the  terrible  in  the  surrounding  world ;  but  though  I  have  climbed  many 


314     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

a  score  of  mountain-tops  I  never  before  felt  it  in  the  face  of  day.  Turning 
from  the  serried  world  in  the  distance,  I  noticed  that  the  peak  on  which  I 
stood  bore  a  curious  mark  of  man's  work:  the  top,  including  an  acre  or  two, 
had  clearly  been  levelled  off  and  there  was  reason  to  believe  that  it  had  been 
some  sort  of  a  stronghold.  The  wind  was  too  fierce  for  clear  seeing,  so  I  only 
note  the  possibility  that  this  levelled  summit  had  been  the  work  of  some 
early  people.  I  have  never  climbed  an  isolated  hill  in  this  region  without 
finding  some  faint  trace  of  human  occupancy  upon  it.  Always  before,  how- 
ever, these  traces  of  man  have  been  shown  by  some  form  of  masonry  however 
rude. 

I  found  the  mountain  longer  in  the  descent  than  in  the  ascent,  for,  al- 
though the  Italians,  like  their  Roman  ancestors,  are  good  road-builders, 
they  will  not  build  direct  ways  in  a  hilly  region,  as  their  forefathers  did; 
even  for  footpaths  they  generally  keep  easy  grades,  and  in  their  devious  ways 
there  are  rarely  any  of  those  straight  cut-off  paths  that  people  more  accus- 
tomed to  be  in  a  hurry  are  sure  to  make.  The  result  was  that  while  doubling 
to  and  fro  I  saw  the  train  for  Florence  clear  away  from  the  station,  and  had 
to  make  my  way  to  the  city  in  a  tram-car.  The  Italians  take  greatly  to  street- 
cars; walking  is  to  them  the  opprobrium  of  life,  and  even  the  poorest  con- 
tadino  will  spare  the  two  cents  necessary  to  take  him  on  the  car.  These  cars 
move  with  an  endless  tooting  of  tin  horns  and  a  complicated  system  of  super- 
vision ;  still  they  move,  and  this  slow  world  seems  a  little  quickened  as  they 
pass.  They  make  rather  a  blunt  point  for  the  edge  of  civilization's  wedge, 
but  I  dare  say  in.  time  they  will  bring  many  another  of  our  modern  complica- 
tions in  their  train;  so  that  this  archaic,  simple  life  will  be  driven  away  into 
history. 

Vald'Arno:- 

Marcli  9, 1882. 

I  left  the  train  at  the  pleasant  old  town  of  San  Giovanni,  in  its  day  one  of 
the  southern  bulwarks  of  the  Florentine  Republic.  It  seems  to  have  been  a 
prosperous  little  city,  as  indeed  were  all  those  towns  of  the  fat  old  lake  lands. 
The  broad  main  street  has  homes  more  beautiful  than  those  of  most  small 
Tuscan  cities.  There  is  a  curious  old  podesta,  or  town  hall,  with  a  loggia  on 
three  sides  of  it. 

I  had  to  walk  some  miles  to  the  country  to  find  the  guide  who  was  to  show 
me  the  geological  localities.  My  intelligent  companion,  the  conservator  of 
the  cabinet  of  San  Marco,  in  Florence,  did  not  know  the  ground  we  were 
on  in  an  intimate  way,  so  we  had  to  seek  out  a  man  who  spent  much  of  his 
time  in  gathering  fossils  and  who  knew  what  could  be  found  and  where  to 
seek  it.  The  road  led  into  the  intricate  valleys  of  the  low  hills,  and  upon  it 


THE  BEAUTIFUL  ITALIAN  OXEN  315 

we  met  many  teams  of  the  splendid  white  oxen,  always  noble  beasts,  but 
finer  here  than  I  have  ever  seen  before.  For  beauty  I  am  compelled  to  give 
them  a  place  above  any  other  beasts.  They  are  very  long,  their  high  shoul- 
ders nearly  as  tall  as  race-horses,  their  bodies  are  not  over  large  but  made 
as  ships,  their  limbs  are  wonderfully  long  and  clean,  and  their  well-shapen 
feet  the  perfection  of  a  cloven  foot,  which  to  my  mind  is  more  beautiful  in 
form  than  that  of  the  horse.  Their  color  is  creamy  white,  except  the  nose, 
which  is  of  a  lustrous  black.  The  head,  set  upon  an  arched  neck,  is  small  and 
of  a  beautiful  model.  The  eyes  are  large  and  have  the  same  soft  beauty  we 
often  find  in  their  masters'.  Their  yokes  are  better-shaped  than  our  own 
and  do  not  seem  to  bear  them  down,  —  indeed,  as  they  go  along  with  a 
swinging  walk  that  differs  as  much  from  the  dull  pace  of  our  American  oxen 
as  does  the  step  of  a  hunter  from  that  of  a  cart-horse,  they  are  the  embodi- 
ment of  animal  beauty.  One  sees  why  the  ancients  chose  these  white  oxen 
as  their  gifts  to  the  gods.  They  are  beautiful  enough  to  gladden  the  heart 
of  Apollo  as  they  come  with  crowns  of  flowers  to  his  altars. 

Farther  on  we  began  to  meet  teams  of  another  and  less  pleasing  sort. 
Large  two-wheeled  carts  laden  with  brushwood  faggots  were  being  tugged 
over  the  rough  ways  by  gangs  of  women  and  girls,  some  three  or  seven 
making  a  team.  The  old  women  took  the  wheel-horse  position;  they  were 
generally  unshod,  and  sterner,  more  weather-burned  creatures  I  have  never 
seen.  These  high,  toppling  loads  of  brush,  looking  heavy  enough  for  two 
horses  to  draw,  urged  on  by  these  harnessed,  silent  old  women,  through  ways 
that  lay  among  prosperous  farms  and  the  stately  villas  of  nobles,  made  a  scene 
that  was  more  picturesque  than  pleasing.  They  were  not  ill  clad  and  they 
appeared  well  fed,  but  their  faces  had  that  hard,  bitter  look  that  labor  gives 
to  old  women  more  than  it  does  to  men.  Here  Michael  Angelo  might  have 
found  the  models  for  those  stern  faces  of  the  Parcse,  for  they  are  the  faces  of 
the  embittered,  yet  noble-looking,  type  of  poverty  one  sees  so  often  in  Italy. 
Besides  the  women  with  wagons,  there  was  a  yet  poorer  class  who  bore  their 
burdens  of  faggots  on  their  heads ;  at  a  distance  they  each  looked  as  if  a 
great  part  of  Birnam  Wood  was  on  its  way  to  Dunsinane.  Sometimes  their 
heads  were  lost  in  the  stack  of  brushwood,  and  from  the  clutch  their  feet 
made  at  the  ground  it  was  evident  that  their  burden  was  heavy.  This  is 
the  first  time  that  I  have  seen  Tuscan  women  at  work  that  seemed  too  severe 
for  them,  though  elsewhere  I  have  seen  them  spading. 

I  found  my  guide  at  his  simple  contadino  home,  of  which  he  was  the  happy 
master.  Seeing  me  curious  about  it,  he  very  gracefully  asked  if  I  would  like 
to  look  through  it.  This  I  was  glad  to  do,  so  I  gave  the  place  something  like 
a  military  inspection.  It  was  clearly  an  average  specimen  of  its  class.  The 
main  building  was  about  fifty  feet  square,  two  stories  in  height,  with  a  ram- 


316     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

bling"L"  and  a  range  of  miscellaneous  shed-rooms  for  threshing-floors  and 
for  silkworm-culture :  the  larger  part  taken  up  by  stabling  for  the  cows  and 
oxen.  These,  all  of  the  white  variety,  were  amply  and  comfortably  lodged. 
The  stable  was  very  dark,  and  the  silent  creatures  looked  longingly  at  the 
light  of  the  open  door ;  there  was  no  ventilation ;  the  air  was  so  heavy  with 
their  sugary  breath  that  it  soon  made  me  giddy.  They,  however,  seemed  to 
be  in  a  perfect  state  of  health.  I  fancy  animals  do  not  have  the  same  im- 
perative need  of  fresh  air  that  men  do,  for  they  are  not  obliged  to  be  making 
nervous  force  while  they  are  in  the  house  as  we  are. 

The  upper  story  was  entered  by  an  external  stone  stairway,  which  led 
to  a  spacious,  low-roofed  kitchen.  At  one  end  was  a  large  fireplace ;  on  either 
side  of  the  fire  was  a  space  for  the  old  to  sit  in,  with  their  faces  towards  the 
room.  An  old  crone  was  seated  in  one,  with  the  additional  consolation  of 
a  scaldino  in  her  withered  hands.  The  bedrooms,  like  all  the  other  rooms,  had 
stone  floors,  and  were  furnished  with  large,  well-made,  clean  beds,  old  presses 
for  the  clothes,  and  long  boxes  of  ancient  but  unbeautiful  forms.  These  con- 
tadini  are  admirably  lodged  and  are  well  fed ;  certainly  no  other  peasantry 
of  Europe  are  so  well  off.  There  was  not  a  bad  bed  in  the  house,  nor  an  un- 
wholesome sleeping  den,  such  as  one  finds  in  the  equivalent  class  in  Germany, 
France,  or  England. 

I  looked  over  the  man's  store  of  fossils,  and  spent  an  hour  in  making  a 
bad  trade  with  him;  these  fellows  are  as  shrewd  as  can  be  in  such  work. 
When  this  was  over  we  were  invited  to  have  a  meal,  but  time  pressed  too 
much.  Our  host  then  insisted  that  we  should  wash  our  hands,  which  we  did 
while  he  held  the  bowl  with  greatest  civility. 

We  then  went  across  the  country  to  some  mines  of  lignite  that  have 
recently  been  opened  on  these  lake  deposits.  The  deposit  is  wonderfully 
thick,  being  in  many  places  as  much  as  eighty  feet  deep  straight  through 
the  bed.  .  .  .  When  this  lignite  is  removed  from  the  bed  it  coheres  in  large 
blocks,  which  have,  in  fact,  to  be  chiselled  out  of  the  mass;  it  is  then  full 
of  water  and  must  be  stacked  in  long  heaps  until  it  dries.  The  burning  quality 
of  the  material  is  equal  to  that  of  good  pine  wood. 

Here,  as  elsewhere  in  Italy,  one  is  struck  with  the  absence  of  all  the 
machinery  which  in  America  is  used  in  such  heavy  work.  Everything  is 
done  by  hand  with  the  simplest  tools.  In  this  pit  there  were  no  appliances 
that  might  not  have  been  in  use  at  the  building  of  the  Pyramids.  The  trouble 
is  that  the  price  of  labor  is  so  low  that  there  does  not  seem  to  be  the  same 
temptation  here  to  save  it  that  there  is  in  other  countries.  All  the  work  is 
done  by  the  piece,  and  the  best  laborers  earn  only  about  two  francs  a  day. 
Yet  this  gives  them  a  fairly  good  subsistence.  Their  housing  has  been  pro- 
vided by  the  labor  of  other  centuries,  their  clothing  is  nearly  all  homespun. 


AN  INTERESTING  GUIDE  317 

I  do  not  think  that  the  subsistence  and  clothing  of  these  men  cost  on 
the  average  more  than  fifteen  cents  a  day.  As  far  as  I  could  see,  the  working 
power  of  the  men  is  excellent.  Sometimes  they  seem  to  give  trouble,  for  I 
heard  from  my  guide  that  the  overseer  had  shot  several  men  since  he  had 
been  there.  This  part  of  the  Arno  valley  has  a  bad  name  for  lawlessness ; 
indeed  I  was  warned  to  be  on  my  guard,  but,  beyond  a  certain  roughness 
of  mien  that  faintly  reminded  me  of  a  Yorkshire  mining  district,  I  saw 
nothing  out  of  the  way  about  the  people  I  encountered. 

After  examining  the  lignite  pits  I  had  time  to  look  about  the  country. 
A  good  deal  of  the  lowland  is  sterile :  there  are,  however,  many  patches  of 
oaks  that  are  valued  for  the  mast.  Every  now  and  then  we  came  upon  a  little 
herd  of  swine  gleaning  along  the  roads,  each  under  the  charge  of  a  woman 
swineherd,  who  spins  from  a  distaff  as  she  goes.  This  is  the  long  distaff; 
it  is  made  of  what  appears  to  be  a  cornstalk,  the  space  of  two  joints  at  one 
end  being  split  longitudinally  and  forced  apart  so  as  to  give  a  frame  on 
which  to  spread  the  flax  or  hemp  fibre.  I  was  much  interested  in  the  swine; 
they  are  long-legged  creatures  and  are  curiously  marked,  the  fore  legs  and 
shoulders  are  white,  while  all  the  rest  of  the  body  is  very  black. 

I  found  my  guide  an  interesting  fellow,  very  talkative,  but  with  the 
puzzling  peculiarities  of  speech  that  begin  to  become  apparent  as  soon  as 
we  get  south  of  Florence;  every  initial  c  is  turned  to  an  h,  cara  is  hara, 
cerico  is  harico,  etc.  The  initial  h's  dropped  in  the  air  of  England  are  all  re- 
covered here.  The  Italian  language  seems  to  have  wronged  nature  in  not 
allowing  the  aspirate  any  place,  while  we  English  give  it  too  much  share  of 
breath.  On  questioning,  it  was  clear  that  my  companion  and  my  guide  both 
thought  they  said  cara  when  they  said  hara.  My  guide's  rustic  talk  and  com- 
ments were  entertaining.  A  certain  grandee  was  building  a  house  in  the 
neighborhood,  making  it  three  stories,  while  immemorial  usage  in  these  parts 
made  two  sufficient ;  this  he  thought  a  gross  folly  in  the  matter  of  palaces. 
Happening  while  thus  remarking  to  pass  a  cemetery  he  said,  "Behold  the 
palace  of  the  contadini." 

Returning  to  San  Giovanni  I  noticed  a  cart  with  woven  rush  sides,  driven 
by  some  women,  and  drawn  by  a  pair  of  beautiful  white  cows  that  went 
nimbly  along  together,  looking  happy  with  their  bright  burden.  It  struck 
me  that  the  turnout  would  make  a  good  design  for  a  coat-of-arms  for  the 
woman's  rights  party.  There  were  also  many  curious  perambulating  shops 
in  the  streets;  a  two-wheeled  cart  carried  a  platform  about  twenty  feet 
long  and  four  feet  wide,  on  which  the  goods  were  displayed,  one  man  easily 
shoving  it  through  the  streets.  The  dames  in  the  windows  could  be  led  into 
temptation  by  having  the  shop  brought  before  their  eyes,  while  their  ears 
were  tickled  with  the  persuasive  assurances  of  the  shopman. 


318  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

I  came  back  at  sundown.  The  whole  of  the  majestic  mass  of  Porta  Magna 
was  taking  the  last  of  the  day,  making  a  golden  crown  of  it.  In  the  tram-car 
was  a  Florentine  man  of  trade ;  he  spoke  a  poor  English  of  which  he  was  very 
proud,  and  he  had  cut  his  beard  and  his  clothes  in  the  conventional  English 
way.  It  is  the  fashion  here  to  gird  at  the  English,  but  there  is  a  foundation 
of  vast  admiration  of  that  folk.  The  Florentine  was  surprised  to  hear  that 
there  was  any  profitable  lignite  in  this  valley.  He  complained  that  every- 
thing among  his  countrymen  was  done  in  a  corner;  that  if  a  business  man 
found  a  good  thing  he  kept  it  so  secret  that  until  his  work  was  laid  bare  by 
death  no  one  would  know  he  had  made  a  fortune,  and  the  business  was  likely 
to  die  with  him.  There  was  doubtless  some  truth  in  this  tale,  for  secretive- 
ness  and  want  of  mutual  action  and  trust  seem  to  be  the  evils  most  com- 
plained of  by  the  intelligent  natives.  This  does  not  seem  to  be  the  nature 
of  the  folk,  but  the  product  of  their  long  struggle  with  the  oppression  that 
has  been  laid  upon  them.  I  noticed  that  all  sorts  of  associations  are  spring- 
ing up,  and  these  seem  to  show  by  their  general  success  that  the  power  of 
combination  in  action  is  latent  in  the  people;  that  in  their  new  life  they 
will  not  want  for  this  element  of  power. 

Having  pretty  well  explored  the  immediate  neighborhood  of 
Florence,  Mr.  Shaler  set  out  on  a  journey  to  the  south  of  Italy. 
He  writes  in  letters  under  date  of  March,  1882 :  — 

ROME,  Sunday  Evening,  March  12, 1882. 

With  nothing  to  note  save  my  loneliness  I  got  here  at  4.40.  ...  I  have 
fallen  in  with  a  nice  old  German  scholar  from  near  Hanover.  He  is  bound 
for  Sicily  and  wants  to  travel  with  me.  So  if  I  go  to  Sicily  at  all  I  shall  have 
a  very  decent  if  rather  dull  company. 

The  old  Rome  we  saw  together  is  no  longer  here,  in  its  place  a  half-Paris 
of  a  city,  boulevards,  etc.  Even  the  Pantheon  has  been  shorn  of  its  age 
and  looks  less  old  than  the  British  Museum  Reading-room. 

I  walked  up  the  Pincian  Hill;  met  Miss  H .  Saw  one  or  two  other 

familiar  faces,  but  spoke  to  no  one  else.  To-morrow  at  6  A.  M.  I  take  train 
for  Naples.  The  next  morning  I  shall  go  to  Vesuvius,  and  hope  to  see  all 
that  I  need  in  a  day. 

NAPLES,  March  13, 1882. 

I  came  here  this  afternoon  at  one  o'clock,  too  late  to  go  to  Vesuvius.  I 
hope  to  attack  it  to-morrow  morning ;  it  is  smoking  like  a  great  chimney,  in 
a  dull,  businesslike  fashion.  I  shall  not  be  able  to  fix  the  matter  of  JStna 
until  I  find  what  its  state  is. 


NAPLES  AND  VESUVIUS  319 

The  bay  is  as  fine  as  ever,  but  it  is  a  stage-curtain  beauty,  not  the  homely 
loveliness  of  Florence.  I  had  a  long  walk  this  morning,  and  saw  a  lot  of  geo- 
logy of  a  curious  sort,  much  that  will  count  me  hereafter.  My  German  is  still 
waiting  for  me  to  go  to  JStna,  but  I  have  not  promised.  I  shall  be  glad  to 
hear  to-morrow  that  it  had  [word  illegible]  and  burst,  for  I  don't  want  to 
go  farther  from  my  belongings. 

This  is  a  swell  hotel,  so  I  shall  take  myself  off.  Every  knave  "speaks  a 
little  English  "  and  will  put  it  in  the  bill.  The  inn  in  Rome  suited  me,  no  Eng- 
lish, French,  or  German,  and  low  prices.  I  'm  tired  and  must  to  bed.  .  .  . 

P.  S.  March  14.  ...  Have  just  been  at  Vesuvius,  so  that  is  off  for  an- 
other term  of  years. 

Hotel  Nobile,  NAPLES,  March  15, 1882. 

Professor  Guescard  advises  me  not  to  try  JEtna,  as  the  things  I  want  to  see 
may  all  be  covered  with  snow.  So  I  shall  give  that  up.  In  place  of  it  I  shall 
work  up  some  problems  here.  I  feel  tired  to-day;  I  have  therefore  done 
nothing  but  work  at  the  University  and  search  for  Vesuvian  photographs. 
To-morrow  I  shall  be  all  right  and  shall  do  the  Phlegraean  Fields  between  here 
and  Baiae.  The  next  day  I  go  to  Ischia.  ...  I  wonder  where  my  geological 
eyes  were  fifteen  years  ago.  It  must  have  been  some  other  fellow  who  was  here. 

Mr.  Shaler's  notes  on  Vesuvius  and  Naples  were  so  hastily 
written  that  in  most  instances  they  are  undecipherable;  it  has 
been  possible,  however,  to  make  out  some  of  them,  though 
perhaps  not  the  most  significant.  The  first  relates  to  the  ascent 
of  Vesuvius. 

.  .  .  Road  to  east  and  main  observatory  road,  lava  quite  wide,  yet  covered 
with  thin  sheet  of  cinders.  Aloe  at  1200  feet  slightly  frosted.  Beautiful 
to  see  the  grass  and  flowers  creeping  over  lava ;  the  rapilli  fill  crevices  and 
decay  rapidly,  because  of  large  face  and  vesicular  nature.  Composite  seem 
to  be  the  best  plants  to  begin.  .  .  . 

The  mode  of  explosion  in  the  crater  was  exactly  like  a  large  quarry  mine, 
—  the  steam  smelled  slightly  of  sulphur,  but  was  as  easily  breathed  as  or- 
dinary steam,  not  at  all  suffocating  when  it  thickened  the  air  so  that  one 
could  not  see  a  hundred  feet.  At  the  minute  of  uprush  of  stones  (several  tons 
flying  at  once)  the  heat  was  great.  At  three  hundred  feet  distance  stones  per- 
ceptibly red  in  all  their  first  flight,  and  partly  so  when  falling,  sometimes 
splashing  where  they  fell,  again  rolling  up  into  a  loop  as  they  rushed  down 
the  slope.  .  .  .  Saw  no  secondary  explosion  in  stones;  necessary  to  watch 
the  stones  so  as  to  dodge,  notes  therefore  imperfect. 


320  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

Darkness  overtook  me  near  San  Giorgio  and  thence  through  a  wilderness 
of  lava  and  villages  I  went  on  to  Naples.  Some  fete  was  on  hand,  so  I  found 
the  people,  save  the  very  old,  gathered  in  knots  before  small  illuminations; 
night  and  dust  enabled  me  to  melt  into  the  crowd  without  notice.  Only 
one  small  boy  found  out  my  strangeness  and  announced  it  with  a  yelp. 
After  you  have  got  so  that  you  fool  the  dogs,  the  small  boy  still  scents  your 
strangeness. 

Now  and  then  over  the  walls  I  could  see  the  red  glow  of  eruption  on  Ve- 
suvius, but  generally  there  was  no  light ;  only  the  now  solid  darkness  to  show 
its  place.  At  length  I  got  to  the  long  sea-bound  streets  of  Naples.  The  same 
large  crowds  and  music  of  bands  between  silent  streets,  with  old  folk  within 
crooning  over  a  little  fire,  while  I  was  sweating  along  in  the  tramontanes. 
These  people  in  their  beautiful  nature  seem  to  me  after  all  sad ;  they  creep 
along  with  no  fire  in  their  eyes,  in  a  weary  sadness ;  though  noisy  they  are  not 
merry.  I  have  never  seen  an  Italian  merry  as  a  German,  or  even  an  Eng- 
lishman. Here  in  face  of  this  mighty  nature  man  seems  only  a  thin  shadow. 

John  P [a  Scotch  gentleman  at  Naples  who  was  very  courteous  to  Mr. 

Shaler]  was  with  Stephenson  forty  years  ago  at  Pompeii ;  Stephenson  meas- 
ured cart-tracks  and  found  them  to  be  4°  8',  and  said  that  time  was  with  him 

in  his  battle  for  the  narrow  gauge.  Mr.  P has  been  in  Naples  for  forty-five 

years,  and  is  the  owner  of  a  very  large  machine-shop,  employing  seven  hun- 
dred hands ;  they  are,  he  says,  physically  weak,  amiable,  not  interested  in 
their  work,  have  considerable  ingenuity  in  contriving  easier  methods  of  doing 

things.  Saints'  days  once  a  burden  are  given  up.  Mr.  P saw  Garibaldi's 

campaign  against  the  Bourbons;  he  says  that  the  King's  troops  seemed 
perfectly  mesmerized  by  Garibaldi's  name.  If  even  five  thousand  of  them 
could  have  been  held  to  act,  Garibaldi's  army  could  have  been  beaten. 
The  dependence  upon  the  priesthood  is  gone;  the  family  priest  no  longer 
exists.  Once  he  attended  to  all  the  household,  married  the  daughters,  and 
saw  to  it  that  the  souls  of  all  were  safely  sent  on  their  way.  Once  the  priest 
was  saluted  by  kissing  his  hand,  now  the  peasantry  pass  him  in  silence. 
Mr.  P gives  a  very  bad  idea  of  morals. 

He  has  seen  several  great  eruptions;  he  describes  the  roar  of  the  lava 
as  it  came  against  San  Sebastiano  as  something  dreadful.  He  says  that  in 
the  eruption  of  1854  at  Torre  del  Greco,  the  land  rose  so  as  to  separate  the 
ends  of  the  rails.  .  .  .  The  lava  ran  from  Vesuvius  through  the  town  to  the 
sea.  The  deaths  in  the  Atrio  del  Cavallo  in  1872  were  from  the  lava  sur- 
rounding the  people  by  a  divided  stream  that  reunited ;  some  escaped  with 
severe  burns  by  running  over  the  half-solid  surface.  In  the  eruption  of  1850 
toward  Boscenalle,  the  saints  and  pictures  were  brought  out  of  the  churches 
in  the  neighborhood  and  fixed  to  trees  and  walls  to  stay  the  flood.  But  it 
swept  on  despite  the  images. 


THE  NEAPOLITANS  321 

As  I  came  out  of  Naples,  Vesuvius  was  half  hidden  in  a  majestic  army  of 
cumulus  clouds  that  were  lifting  from  the  sea ;  from  one  to  three  thousand 
feet  was  hidden  by  this  cloud  that  cast  a  vast  shadow  below  it.  The  whole 
mountain  seemed  strangely  weird,  a  thing  of  speculation,  the  ghost  of  moun- 
tains that  had  been.  Vesuvius  is  constantly  extending  its  lines;  as  it  rises 
higher  the  lava  penetrates  farther  from  the  base.  It  will  probably  be  not 
more  than  a  century  before  San  Giorgio  Borra  and  Ponticelli  will  be  in  dan- 
ger, and  at  the  rate  of  extension  Pompeii  and  Naples  will  be  menaced  within 
two  hundred  years.  There  is  no  reason  why  this  great  rock  mushroom  should 
not  gain  the  size  of  ^Itna  and  absorb  all  the  region  about  as  far  as  the 
Phlegrsean  Fields.  The  total  mass  of  the  mountain  has  about  doubled  in 
eighteen  hundred  years,  and  its  growth  in  the  last  two  hundred  and  fifty 
years  has  been  more  rapid  than  before.  .  .  . 

The  generally  good  climate  is  shown  in  the  ruddiness  of  visage  and  gen- 
erally excellent  physique  of  the  natives.  The  people  are  small ;  I  did  not  see 
a  six-foot  native  nor  one  very  brawny;  the  porters  carry  light  burdens.  The 
women  have  comely  faces,  all  on  one  type,  flat,  small  heads,  good  eyes  with  no 
brightness,  small,  short-fingered  hands.  Now  and  then  there  is  a  mark  of  Afri- 
can blood,  no  trace  of  Greek.  It  is  a  low  population,  except  the  gentry,  which 
is  very  high.  The  gentry  have  beautiful  manners;  they  seem  to  me  the  best 
I  have  ever  seen.  I  asked  a  venerable-looking  old  aristocrat  my  way;  he  laid 
his  hand  on  my  arm  and  told  it  me  in  accents  that  were  full  of  a  certain 
subtle  sympathy.  Now  and  then  a  grand  face  among  the  poor;  one  of  a  man 
far  gone  in  illness,  which  I  saw  in  a  window,  haunts  me  still  —  a  face  out  of 
the  past.  Naples  has  had  no  art,  architecture,  music,  religion,  or  anything 
else.  Nowhere  else  is  nature  so  overpowering  as  at  Naples,  so  charming  and 
so  little  inspiring. 

In  the  car  from  Rome  another  patent  American  in  the  corner;  all  night 
no  sound  out  of  him.  A  young  fellow  going  away  on  a  journey;  four  men 
and  three  young  women  to  see  him  off,  a  roar  of  lamentation,  greater  than 
attended  the  going  of  regiments  to  the  field.  Thrice  they  kissed  all  around, 
thrice  he  descended  for  another  bout  of  kissing  and  wailing.  He  was  a  lean, 
worthless-looking,  dirty  youth,  with  a  large,  ragged  carpet-bag.  When  he 
was  seated  he  again  and  again  went  over  some  photographs ;  when  he  fell 
asleep  he  rolled  on  the  floor  but  apologized  with  much  grace.  Dignified- 
looking  man  of  thirty-five,  with  a  young  woman  of  the  harlot  class,  who 
smoked,  spat,  laughed,  and  wept  by  turns.  He  was  shy  and  seemed  ill  at 
ease  with  his  burden. 

The  Italian  railway  system  belongs  principally  to  the  government,  a  large 
part  of  their  debt  has  gone  to  this  important  work.  .  .  .  About  Naples  the 
soil  is  amazingly  fertilized  by  the  volcanic  ashes  that  come  upon  it;  the  erup- 
tion of  1872  put  three  inches  over  the  land  for  twenty  miles  about. 


322  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

The  journey  northward  from  Florence  in  March  was  through 
the  lands  of  blossoming  delight ;  peach,  almond,  and  apple  trees 
with  their  delicate  shading  of  green  and  rose-color  made  the 
quickened  earth  a  scene  of  enchanting  beauty.  Only  near  Paris 
we  seemed  to  retrace  the  season  and  began  with  buds  instead 
of  flowers. 

Besides  revisiting  old  familiar  scenes  in  Paris,  Mr.  Shaler 
spent  considerable  time  at  the  School  of  Mines  and  other  homes 
of  science.  In  one  of  his  rambles  he  knocked  at  Dr.  Brown- 
Se*quard's  door.  The  eminent  physiologist  at  that  time  was 
engaged  in  making  some  interesting  experiments  on  guinea- 
pigs,  producing  in  them,  by  artificial  means,  a  state  of  epilepsy. 
When  Mr.  Shaler  was  about  to  go,  the  savant  asked  if  he  would 
be  good  enough  to  take  one  of  the  little  animals  to  Huxley. 
Since  he  expected  to  cross  the  channel  in  a  few  days  he  willingly 
undertook  the  charge.  The  pig  was  done  up  in  a  paper  bag  and 
thrust  into  his  overcoat-pocket.  On  the  way  back  to  the  hotel, 
he  stopped  at  a  bird  store  to  purchase  a  cage  for  his  little  charge, 
and  in  an  unguarded  moment  took  his  hand  out  of  his  pocket 
to  point  to  a  small  wooden  one  of  about  the  right  size.  The  pig, 
seizing  his  opportunity,  bounced  out  on  to  the  floor  :  whereat 
the  proprietress  and  her  daughter  jumped  up  on  the  counter 
and  proceeded  to  scream  at  the  top  of  their  voices.  Endeavor- 
ing to  reassure  them,  Mr.  Shaler  called  out,  "C'est  seulement 
un  petit  cochon";  the  word  cochon  was  all  that  they  heard, 
and  since  to  be  called  cochon  in  French  is  a  deadly  insult,  indigna- 
tion was  added  to  their  fright.  In  the  meantime  the  "  subject " 
was  captured,  and,  its  owner  demonstrating  his  pacific  intent 
to  the  crowd  which  had  been  attracted  by  the  screams,  the 
women  were  induced  to  descend  and  take  their  pay  for  their 
pains. 

Before  leaving  Florence,  Mr.  Shaler  had  suggested  that  his 
family  give  Paris  the  "go-by,"  even  offering  the  younger  mem- 
bers a  considerable  bribe  if  they  would  stay  away ;  but  to  Paris 
they  would  go,  and  immediately  upon  arrival  they  succumbed 


ADVENTURES  OF  A  GUINEA-PIG  323 

to  the  influenza  which  just  then  scourged  the  city.  In  the 
stuffy  rooms  of  a  hotel  the  days  passed  gloomily  enough ;  so 
when  he  entered  with  a  merry  countenance  and  exhibited  this 
prize  there  was  much  rejoicing.  The  pig  was  dubbed  the 
"General,"  and  the  attentions  due  his  rank  were  lavished  upon 
him.  He  was  fed  and  petted  and  for  a  couple  of  days  flourished, 
then  languished,  and  finally  died.  When  this  happened,  late 
in  the  evening,  his  little  body  was  put  out  on  the  window-sill, 
and  next  morning  the  man  who  came  to  make  the  fire  was  told 
to  take  him  away.  Instead  of  obeying  he  gazed  at  the  puny 
object,  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  exclaimed  with  uplifted 
hands,  "C'est  d6fendu,"  and  no  persuasion  would  avail  until, 
as  he  explained,  he  had  got  the  necessary  sanction  of  the  police 
for  its  removal.  Mr.  Shaler,  intensely  amused  at  so  great  regard 
for  legal  forms,  put  the  pig  in  his  pocket  and  sallied  forth.  In 
the  park  he  was  about  to  deposit  the  " General' '  behind  a  clump 
of  shrubbery  when  a  policeman,  as  if  divining  some  flagrant 
intent,  fixed  his  gaze  upon  him,  and  instead  of  going  about  his 
business  continued  to  hover  near  by.  Several  efforts  to  get  rid 
of  what  had  now  become  a  veritable  burden  in  some  bushes  in 
other  parts  of  the  city  proving  equally  futile,  Mr.  Shaler  gave 
up  the  job  for  that  day. 

The  same  evening  at  dinner  by  chance  one  of  seeming  author- 
ity proclaimed  the  fact  that  French  law  was  made  for  French 
people  only,  and  if  once  brought  into  the  tribunal  for  any  cause 
whatsoever  a  stranger  seldom  escaped  without  suffering  either 
fine  or  imprisonment.  Therefore,  more  than  ever  anxious  to 
elude,  if  there  were  any  informality,  the  guardians  of  the  law, 
Mr.  Shaler  started  out  early  the  next  morning  determined  to 
free  himself  of  his  embarras.  At  last  on  one  of  the  bridges, 
seizing  a  favorable  moment,  over  the  wall  into  the  Seine  he 
tossed  the  little  creature  freighted  with  its  pathological  message 
which  in  his  own  person  he  was  destined  never  to  deliver.  Ever 
after  with  a  merry  twinkle  in  his  eye,  he  spoke  respectfully  of 
the  ubiquity  and  vigilance  of  the  French  policeman  —  of  his 


324     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

alert  eye  for  broken  bottles,  orange-peels,  banana-skins,  and 
guinea-pigs. 

At  Malvern,  where,  as  usual,  Mr.  Shaler  stopped  for  a  course 
of  water-cure  treatment  before  sailing,  the  world  was  fresh  and 
green,  but  there  was  a  desperate  chill  in  the  air  and  the  heavily 
laden  sky  hung  low,  so  low  that  one  seemed  literally  to  walk 
with  one's  head  in  the  clouds.  At  Boston  in  the  month  of  May 
we  found  the  arch  of  heaven  had  receded ;  it  was  far  off,  cold, 
and  apparently  unattainable:  instead  of  leaves,  icicles  hung 
from  the  branches  of  the  trees,  and  the  thin,  shining  snow  that 
covered  the  ground  showed,  though  very  nearly  in  the  same 
latitude,  how  far  removed  in  climate  Boston  was  from  Florence. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

SOME   FAMILIAR   LETTERS 

1882-1888 

THE  ensuing  summer  was  spent  at  Campobello.  Mr.  Shaler  had 
previously  worked  up  the  natural  features  of  the  island  and 
made  a  report  upon  it;  he  knew  it  well,  therefore,  and  he  was 
charmed  with  its  beauty.  He  thought  to  make  a  summer  home 
there,  but  after  trying  it  for  two  seasons,  the  distance  from 
Cambridge  was  found  to  be  against  the  project,  for  what  he 
had  in  mind  was  a  refuge  that  he  could  easily  reach  and  thus 
escape,  when  it  became  too  burdensome,  the  pressure  of  life  in 
Cambridge;  indeed,  he  was  in  search  of  a  place  which  at  the 
beginning  would  serve  for  a  second  home,  but  eventually  might 
be  raised  to  the  rank  of  the  first  in  his  affections  and  order  of 
living.  This  search  was  to  be  rewarded  later. 

The  following  letters  from  Mr.  Shaler  and  others  reveal  to  a 
certain  extent,  aside  from  his  regular  Cambridge  work,  the 
happenings  of  these  years. 

Mr.  Shaler  writes:  — 

NEWPORT,  KY.,  June  2, 1882. 

...  I  have  been  out  into  the  country  with  my  mother  to  visit  some  of  her 
nephews  whom  she  had  not  seen  for  a  long  time.  The  visit  seemed  to  cheer 
her  up  a  bit.  They  are  all  well-conditioned  bucolic  folk  with  comfortable 
homes  and  well-bred  families.  A  pleasant  spectacle  to  one  who  does  not  see 
much  of  his  kin. 

I  have  filled  in  my  time  with  a  novel  of  Trollope  and  Hamerton's  "  In- 
tellectual Life."  You  will  like  the  latter;  it  is  a  pleasant  essay  on  the  condi- 
tions of  culture. 

OLYMPIA,  KENTUCKY,  Dec.  28, 1883. 

I  find  there  is  a  chance  of  decent  weather,  so  I  shall  have  to  try  my  jour- 
ney into  the  woods  [he  went  to  investigate  some  iron  properties]  much  against 
my  will.  ...  I  have  never  had  an  absence  from  home  that  vexed  me  so 


326     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

much.  I  fear  that  my  humor  for  the  outside  world  grows  less  with  added 
years.  ...  I  expect  to  close  up  everything  here  so  that  there  will  be  no 
need  of  repeating  the  journey. 

MADISON,  "WISCONSIN,  April  18, 1883. 

The  appointment  at  Helena,  Montana  [the  occasion  of  this  visit  was  to 
attend  a  mining  suit],  is  postponed,  so  I  spent  the  day  here  to  complete 
my  task.  I  hope  to  start  back  about  the  fifth.  Be  sure  I  shall  make  good 
fight  with  space  and  time.  The  people  here  have  been  most  kind.  Yet  with 
all  my  skill  in  dodging  I  have  had  to  make  three  speeches  and  have  been  kept 
in  a  whirl.  Fortunately  two  days  of  silence  are  coming  and  of  them  I  shall 
make  good  use. 

CAMBRIDGE,  Thursday, ,  1883. 

The  train  (I  came  by  way  of  Rutland,  Vermont)  was  as  usual  three  hours 
late.  I  dined  in  the  Vermont  fashion,  on  a  wet-flannel  sandwich  and  a  piece 
of  white-pine  pie,  all  out  of  a  brown-paper  parcel.  I  have  supped  on  some 
bad  ice-cream  and  a  sort  of  degraded  ginger-snaps  (neither  ginger  nor  snap). 
You  will  know  that  I  am  well  when  I  tell  you  I  am  none  the  worse  for  it  all. 
House  seems  all  right.  Cambridge,  by  contrast,  as  still  as  a  mountain-top. 

STAUNTON,  VIRGINIA,  June  19, 1883. 

I  have  had  two  red-hot  days  in  the  woods  and  am  over  the  worst  part  of 
my  task.  I  go  to-day  with  Hotchkiss  to  a  place  called  Roanoke  to  see  some 
iron  properties  for  future  consideration.  ...  I  have  found  the  woods  very 
restful  despite  the  heat  and  bad  food.  If  you  were  here  I  would  gladly  stay 
all  the  summer.  I  am  satisfied  that  in  a  camp  one  could  have  perfect  summer 
conditions  in  the  mountains. 

CAMBRIDGE,  Sunday,  July,  1883. 

I  got  back  here  last  night  in  time  for  the  worst  continuous  cat  serenade 
I  have  ever  heard.  Summer  war  begins.  I  shall  hope  to  extinguish  the  spe- 
cies. ...  I  wish  you  were  here,  Cambridge  never  seemed  so  pleasant, 
almost  cold  and,  cats  excepted,  quiet.  ...  I  am  looking  forward  to  some 
sort  of  rest  with  great  longing,  for  in  fact  I  am  very  tired.  I  have  my  doubts 
about  finding  it  at  Saratoga.  If  not  there  we  will  go  elsewhere. 

CAMBRIDGE,  July  15, 1883. 

...  I  shall  have  to  stop  over  a  day  at  the  Livingstone  mine.  ...  I 
mind  your  caution  not  to  rush  things:  an  inward  monitor,  too,  tells  me  to  go 
slowly  that  I  may  go  surely.  ...  I  am  more  than  ever  convinced  that  a 
change  of  house  is  desirable.  It  is  lonesome  here.  I  dined  last  evening  at 
M 's.  They  seem  as  happy  as  two  old  parroquets.  .  .  . 


ACQUAINTANCE  WITH  GORDON  McKAY      327 

LICHFIELD,  March  9, 1884. 

I  came  back  here  yesterday  as  I  am  sure  of  something  to  eat  and  a  room 
to  myself.  I  have  made  pretty  good  headway  with  the  work  laid  out  and 
hope  to  paddle  homewards  on  Wednesday.  I  go  to-night  to  [word  illegible] 
and  thence  six  miles  to  look  up  some  matters.  I  shall  have  a  trustworthy 
companion,  so  you  need  not  worry  yourself  about  me.  This  section,  though 
settled  for  near  a  century,  is  still  a  pathless  wilderness,  with  only  here  and 
there  an  acre  of  better  land.  The  people  are  incorrigibly  lazy  and  shiftless. 

I  am  keeping  quite  well  despite  bad  food  and  a  good  deal  of  work  on  horse- 
back. 

My  old  coat  is  going  like  the  parson's  "one-hoss  shay,"  all  at  once  and 
nothing  first.  So  I  shall  be  driven  to  shelter  or  shirtsleeves  soon. 

This  is  a  [word  illegible]  land  and  a  very  uninteresting  people,  swampy, 
saturnine  fellows,  no  life,  no  sparkle  except  the  effervescence  of  whiskey. 
I  really  have  but  little  confidence  in  any  great  future  for  our  race  in  thi3 
shape.  It  must  mend  or  make  itself  into  nothingness.  .  .  . 

To  his  mother:  — 

CAMBRIDGE,  Sept.  22, 1884. 

.  .  .  You  cannot  imagine  how  glad  we  are  to  hear  that  you  have  really 
had  your  profit  from  your  dreadful  siege  with  the  doctors.  God  bless  them. 
I  have  been  all  day  with  my  friend  McKay,  who  has  been  enduring  a  fit  of 
the  stone  (kidney  form).  His  agony  has  been  frightful.  I  have  given  him 
near  two  pints  of  ether  in  eight  hours  with  only  momentary  effects.  Now 
he  is  over  it,  but  exhausted.  .  .  . 

I  am  enjoying  "hay  cold."  There  is  not  much  fun  in  the  crop.  .  .  .  lam 
much  obliged  to  Anna  for  her  kind  letters;  that  I  don't  answer  them  more 
regularly  is  due  to  the  fact  that  the  days  are  short  and  busy  with  me.  It  is 
a  chance  to  keep  from  under  the  wheels  of  time. 

Since  Mr.  Gordon  McKay  was  destined,  at  a  later  period,  to 
play  so  large  a  part  in  Mr.  Shaler's  life  and  in  that  of  the  Uni- 
versity, the  above  allusion  to  him  would  seem  to  call  for  a  word 
of  explanation.  Mr.  Shaler's  acquaintance  with  Mr.  McKay, 
one  of  Harvard's  greatest  benefactors,  began  in  1865,  and  from 
that  time  on  he  knew  him  intimately  until  Mr.  McKay's  death 
in  1903.  Indeed  he  somewhere  says  he  never  knew  any  man 
so  well  or  so  long.  For  many  years  they  were  very  close  neigh- 
bors, and  at  first  were  drawn  together  by  the  mutual  interest 


328  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

in  inventions  and  mining  problems.  The  side  of  his  character 
which  Mr.  McKay  presented  to  his  friend  was  one  of  great 
dignity  and  kindliness.  Moreover,  his  mind  was  constantly 
reaching  out  to  large  enterprises  and  in  these  excursions  he 
sought  for  sympathy  and  suggestions  from  a  source  which  he 
well  knew  would  never  fail  him.  On  his  part  Mr.  Shaler  found, 
in  many  ways,  great  satisfaction  in  his  business  relations  with 
Mr.  McKay,  who  could  imaginatively  project  himself  into  any 
large  enterprise  and  grasp  the  possibilities  of  an  unverified 
hypothesis,  whereas  with  prosaic  men  of  affairs  of  the  average 
type  Mr.  Shaler's  imagination  was  often  a  barrier.  Because  he 
saw  far  beyond  the  immediate  question,  they  sometimes  seemed 
to  doubt  his  practical  grasp  of  the  concrete  problem  itself.  Not 
so  with  Mr.  McKay ;  he  eagerly  followed  him  in  his  scientific  and 
practical  quests  and  showed  an  inspiring  faith  in  his  forecasting 
power  as  well  as  in  his  capacity  to  meet  the  unforeseeable  diffi- 
culty. But  aside  from  the  advice  which  Mr.  McKay  asked  in 
mining  matters,  he  especially  sought  Mr.  Shaler's  counsel  with 
reference  to  the  best  uses  of  money  intended  for  the  public  good, 
and  particularly  the  conditions  of  his  own  proposed  bequests 
were  the  subject  of  continuous  discussion.  So  far  from  having 
a  predilection  for  the  College,  he  began  with  a  serious  dislike, 
which  it  was  Mr.  Shaler's  special  task  to  overcome.  Mr.  McKay, 
however,  did  believe  very  firmly  that  the  men  whose  work 
tended  toward  applied  science  had  better  be  educated  with 
those  trained  in  the  liberal  arts.  This  conviction  remained  fixed 
in  his  mind  until  the  time  came  to  make  his  final  decision.  After 
1891  there  was  no  longer  a  shadow  of  doubt  as  to  the  destina- 
tion of  his  fortune,  and  he  always  alluded  to  Mr.  Shaler  as  the 
one  person  of  all  others  whom  he  looked  to  for  the  carrying 
out  of  his  wishes. 
To  his  sister:  — 

CAMBRIDGE,  March  26, 1885. 

I  have  your  two  letters.  Nothing  could  induce  me  to  take  the  place  of 
Director  U.  S.  Geological  Survey.  As  Hosea  Biglow  says, "  'Taint  a  knowin' 


THE  U.  S.  GEOLOGICAL  SURVEY  329 

kind  o'  cattle  that  is  ketched  with  mouldy  corn."  I  should  be  a  fool  to  give 
up  a  life  position  to  depend  on  worse  than  "princes'  favors,"  the  will  of  each 
President  and  the  whim  of  every  Congress.  Besides,  Powell  is  doing  very 
well  and  should  be  kept  in  office.  ...  I  am  obliged  to  my  friends  for  their 
interest  in  my  political  or  scientific  promotion,  but  however  I  may  lack 
advancement  I  care  nothing  for  it. 

I  proposed  to  come  out  to  Kentucky  this  recess,  but  it  only  lasts  six  days 
this  year  and  I  am  very  tired  after  a  long  and  hard  winter,  so  I  may  not  gain 
the  courage  to  start.  I  dread  the  scamper  out  and  back  with  only  two,  or,  at 
most,  three  nights,  to  rest  between.  If  I  did  not  feel  that  Mother  was  after 
all  pretty  well  I  would  certainly  venture  any  risks  to  see  her,  but  I  shall 
have  to  come  in  May  to  bring  her  here  and  those  days  are  not  far  off.  .  .  . 
We  have  had  a  beautiful  winter,  except  for  the  iron-hearted  cold  and  endless 
north  wind.  .  .  . 

To  the  same:  — 

CAMBRIDGE, ,  1885. 

It  is  contrary  to  law  to  send  dynamite  by  mail,  else  I  should  feel  it  to  be 
my  duty  to  enclose  a  cartridge  of  that  vivifying  material  for  the  use  of  the 
family  to  be  taken  in  tonic  doses.  I  have  a  great  deal  on  hand  to  entangle 
me,  but  I  will  come  out  with  pleasure  and  bring  Mother  on.  ...  Only  two 
weeks  more  lectures,  then  comes  "blue  book"  and  blue  devil  time  with  the 
examinations.  We  are  going  to  Nantucket  soon  after  you  come  —  warranted 
warm  and  comfortable. 

To  the  same :  — 

CAMBRIDGE,  June  23, 1886. 

I  have  been  trying  to  escape  from  my  multifarious  duties  here,  but  it  now 
seems  impossible  to  do  so  until  the  next  month.  I  only  know  how  busy  I  am 
when  I  try  to  break  away  from  my  affairs.  On  the  first  of  July  I  am  to  be  on 
Mount  Washington  to  give  a  lecture  from  that  high  pulpit.  On  the  third 
I  am  to  go  to  Kingston,  Canada,  on  a  mining  errand.  On  the  fifth  I  hope 
to  be  in  Washington.  On  the  sixth  at  White  Sulphur  Springs  to  do  another 
bit  of  mining  work.  On  the  seventh  at  Olympia  or  on  train.  On  the  eighth  at 
home  with  you  all.  Mother  can  then  take  her  time  to  journey  East  with  me. 
We  are  all  pretty  well  but  waiting  for  the  quiet  that  comes  after  the  term. 

To  his  mother :  — 

CAMBRIDGE,  March  20, 1887. 

Sophie  and  the  children  are  good  enough  to  write  to  you  for  me,  thus 
sparing  me  the  grip  of  pen  and  you  the  trial  of  patience  which  comes  when 


330  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

I  write  myself.  Of  late  I  have  taken  an  amanuensis  who  takes  my  work  in 
shorthand  and  gives  me  typewritten  "copy,"  but  this  will  hardly  do  for 
family  letters.  We  have  won  through  a  hard  winter  at  last,  and  although  a 
cold  wind  is  roaring  about  the  chimney-tops  the  boys  are  playing  marbles 
on  the  dry  spots  on  the  sidewalks,  the  girls  are  buying  summer  dresses, 
and  the  British  sparrows,  daunted  for  a  time,  have  renewed  their  impudence. 
These  signs  show  that  spring  is  upon  us.  Before  we  know  it  will  be  time  for 
regretting  the  comforts  of  winter,  though  at  present  we  are  mightily  glad  to 
have  it  over. 

We  expect  you  on  to  see  our  flower-show.  We  put  twelve  hundred  bulbs 
in  the  ground  and  they  need  your  advice  about  coming  up.  If  you  will  not 
come  without  me,  you  will  have  to  come  with  me  as  soon  as  convenient  after 
May  first.  Don't  think  of  trying  to  escape  the  fate.  .  .  . 

ST.  AUGUSTINE,  FLORIDA,  Jan.  1, 1888. 

A  happy  New  Year  to  you  and  the  chicks.  Found  my  way  here  this 
evening  out  of  the  continental  refrigerator  and  into  the  frying-pan.  Ther- 
mometer at  9  P.  M.  80  and  a  sticky  air. 

This  quaint  old  huddle  of  a  town  with  some  picturesque  Spanish  works 
and  wonderful  new  hotels  nearly  finished.  The  Ponce  de  Leon  [he  had  gone 
to  see  about  sinking  an  Artesian  well  for  its  use]  the  greatest  caravansary  in 
the  world,  so  they  say. 

The  air  is  to, me  extremely  unpleasant,  like  our  southerly  storms.  You 
would  not  like  its  lifeless  quality;  it  tastes  like  a  doctor's  prescription.  So 
far  I  have  felt  no  malaria  and  am  well.  To-morrow  I  start  for  Indian  River, 
as  far  as  Lake  Worth,  probably  the  southernmost  point  of  my  wanderings. 
The  region  is  perfectly  safe,  inland  navigation  in  small  steamers.  I  have  seen 
Bradley's  friend  and  gained  much  valuable  information  from  him.  So  far 
my  journey  has  been  profitable,  not  pleasant,  for  the  scenery  of  the  South 
is  indescribably  dreary,  drearier  than  the  sea.  The  country  has  made  little 
gain  in  fifteen  years.  .  .  . 

Steamer  near  KEY  WEST,  Jan.  6, 1888. 

.  .  .  We  have  had  an  easy  passage  from  Tampa,  a  summer  sky  and  sea, 
and  an  American  palace  of  a  boat,  "  extremely  elegant,"  as  they  say,  but  I 
fear  not  very  seaworthy.  In  two  hours  we  shall  be  at  Key  West,  where  I 
suppose  we  shall  have  to  stay  to-night.  To-morrow  morning  early  I  hope  to 
be  in  a  sailboat  running  up  from  Biscayne ;  this  will  be  pleasant  as  it  makes 
the  beginning  of  my  return  journey.  I  may  be  subject  to  a  detention,  for 
although  the  voyage  to  Biscayne  is  through  the  archipelago  of  reefs  in  water 
generally  so  shoal  that  you  can  wade  at  any  point,  and,  therefore,  I 


AN  ADVENTURE  IN  FLORIDA  331 

assure  you,  perfectly  safe,  there  is  a  chance  of  dead  calm.  However,  I 
think  that  we  shall  get  through  Lake  Worth,  where  we  again  find  steam- 
boats. .  .  . 

My  impressions  of  Florida  are  more  favorable  than  at  first.  .  .  .  The  air 
is  extremely  enervating,  but  has  a  curious  quality  of  peacefulness.  The 
people  are  mostly  new  folk,  very  few  of  the  Southern  quality. 

The  country  is  a  vast  sand-heap  (at  least  on  the  surface),  a  white,  beach- 
like  sand;  but  it  grows  oranges  in  a  wonderful  fashion.  I  have  seen  2500  on 
one  tree  and  10,000  have  been  counted.  So  great  is  the  area  of  gain  that 
we  shall  have  to  double  our  appetites  for  the  fruit  in  order  to  provide  a 
market. 

The  principal  crop  is  consumptives;  quite  half  the  population  consists  of 
folk  who  have  fled  from  that  wrath.  It  is  the  dismal  side  of  the  business  of 
travel  here.  The  nearer  I  get  to  the  tropics  the  more  I  turn  with  pleasure  to 
our  grim  Northern  clime.  This  is  the  worst  of  nature  full  of  blandishments 
and  over-sugared  things.  There,  it  is  a  hard-fought  field  which  I  verily  be- 
lieve to  be  the  better  place.  Please  secure  a  first-class  northeaster  for  my 
refreshment  when  I  escape  from  this  land  of  ease  and  laziness.  .  .  . 

JACKSONVILLE,  FLORIDA, ,  1888. 

...  I  have  lamented  the  duration  of  my  journey  each  night  and  morning. 
There  has  been  but  one  consolation,  that  when  it  is  over  I  shall  have  a  long 
breathing  time  at  home. 

I  would  write  longer,  but  I  am  very  very  weary  and  have  to  rise  again 
to-morrow  at  dawn.  I  have  seen  the  sun  up  for  thirty  days  or  so.  ... 

It  was  at  this  time,  while  carrying  on  some  researches  on  the 
Florida  coast,  that  the  boat  in  which  Mr.  Shaler  and  two  of  his 
students  were  sailing  was  capsized  in  a  heavy  gale,  and  for 
some  hours,  while  clinging  to  the  upturned  craft,  trusting  to 
the  waves  to  wash  it  ashore,  the  party  were  in  serious  danger 
amid  the  heavy  surges,  especially  since  one  of  the  men  was 
unable  to  swim.  It  was  the  testimony  of  all  who  shared  the 
catastrophe  that  not  for  a  moment  did  Mr.  Shaler  lose  his  head 
or  cease  to  cheer  and  encourage  the  others,  helping  each  one 
in  turn  as  he  seemed  to  need  assistance.  The  shore  was  finally 
reached,  and,  in  a  state  bordering  on  exhaustion,  without  food 
and  almost  without  clothing,  the  party  set  out  on  a  long  tramp 
for  Lauderdale  Station.  The  walk  along  the  shelving,  sandy 


332  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

beach,  for  unshod  feet,  was  exceedingly  painful.  Mr.  Shaler 
afterward  said  it  was  the  most  distressing  of  any  experience  he 
had  ever  had.  But  at  last  the  Life-Saving  Station,  in  charge  of 
one  Jack  Peacock,  was  reached,  and  here  they  stopped  for  rest 
and  entertainment,  —  entertainment  of  mind  and  body;  for 
Jack  Peacock,  it  seems,  was  a  character,  and  at  the  moment, 
having  rescued  a  cask  of  sherry  from  the  sea,  which  he  had 
buried  in  the  sand,  was  engaged,  as  he  phrased  it,  in  running  a 
race  with  the  worms  to  see  which  should  get  the  better  of  the 
windfall.  His  red  nose  proclaimed  the  fact  that  he  was  not  only 
holding  his  own,  but  outstripping  all  other  rivals  in  the  race. 
Mr.  Shaler  used  to  give  most  ludicrous  accounts  of  Jack's  con- 
versations and  his  philosophical  reasons  for  keeping  himself  in 
a  state  of  constant  booziness. 

After  the  mishap,  an  old  student  who  was  then  in  Florida 
wrote :  — 

NEW  RIVER,  Feb.  5, 1888. 

.  .  .  The  first  calm  day  after  you  left,  I  was  at  Hillsboro  and,  using  the 
mail-carrier's  skiff,  searched  carefully  for  the  things  lost  in  the  capsize,  but 
without  success;  nor  has  anything  more  drifted  ashore  except  a  coat  and  one 
shoe.  I  spent  nearly  half  a  day  drifting  about  the  place  of  accident,  as  nearly 
as  I  could  locate  it,  but  the  surface  of  the  reef  at  that  point  is  so  broken  and 
covered  with  sea-feathers,  sponges,  etc.,  that  even  so  large  an  article  as 
your  valise  might  escape  detection. 

My  dory  was  smashed  by  the  heavy  sea  a  few  days  after  your  departure. 
I  am  rather  glad  of  this  as  it  distributes  the  burden  of  the  misfortune  a  little 
more  evenly  than  at  first.  I  sincerely  hope  that  neither  yourself  nor  the 
young  men  with  you  have  suffered  any  ill  effects  from  your  ducking. 

Very  respectfully,  CHAS.  GORMAN. 

CAMBRIDGE,  April  3, 1888. 

I  arrived  here  this  morning  somewhat  battered  by  the  sleeping-car  air. 
Children  well? 

I  feel  so  lop-sided  in  my  unaccustomed  condition  of  "grass  widower" 
that  I  shall  get  away  to  the  Vineyard  on  Thursday,  returning  on  Mon- 
day. .  .  . 

P.  S.  .  .  .  Mr.  Stilwell  turned  up  and  to  my  surprise  was  induced  to  stay, 
so  that  I  shall  not  go  to  the  Vineyard. 


LOWELL  INSTITUTE  LECTURES  333 

I  am  offered  a  course  of  Lowell  lectures  next  winter,  probably  eight  in  all. 
It  is  a  thousand  dollars  and  not  to  be  "sneezed  at."  I  can  use  matter  de- 
signed for  magazines  and  so  kill  two  birds  with  one  stone. 

These  lectures  on  "Geographical  Conditions  and  Life"  were 
delivered  in  the  winter  of  1888-89.  As  early  as  1871-72,  Mr. 
Shaler  had  given  a  course  of  twelve  lectures  at  the  same  place 
on  "The  Geology  of  Mountain-Ranges." 


CHAPTER  XXin 

MINE   PROSPECTING  AND    OTHER   EXPERIENCES 
1881-1891 

AFTER  Mr.  Shaler's  trip  to  Europe  in  1881,  the  years  that  fol- 
lowed, mostly  spent  in  teaching  and  administrative  work,  offer 
few  external  incidents  for  the  biographer.  The  monotony  of 
his  college  duties,  it  is  true,  was  often  interrupted  (that  is,  his 
lectures  were  anticipated,  or  "  packed  "  together,  as  he  phrased 
it,  not  "cut")  by  journeys,  many  of  them  undertaken,  as  we 
have  seen  from  his  letters,  in  the  interest  of  various  mining  and 
other  projects.  During  these  times  of  travel  he  saw  much  and 
overcame  much,  and  if  his  experiences  could  have  been  told  by 
himself  they  would  have  added  greatly  to  the  interest  of  this 
record. 

He  valued  these  outside  contacts  greatly,  not  on  account  of 
the  personal  advantage  that  might  come  to  him,  but  because 
they  kept  him  in  close  touch  with  the  world  at  large  and  gave 
opportunities  for  getting  his  students  well  started  in  business. 
It  pleased  him  immensely  when  his  "boys"  succeeded,  as  they 
nearly  always  did ;  and  of  late  years  he  was  still  further  elated 
by  the  steadily  increasing  recognition,  on  the  part  of  men  of 
affairs,  of  the  worth  of  the  Lawrence  Scientific  School  training. 
This  was  shown  by  constant  applications  for  young  men  as 
civil,  mechanical,  and  electrical  engineers,  to  take  charge  of 
mines,  and,  as  one  of  them  stated,  to  dig  coal,  to  wash  gold,  to 
build  bridges,  and  bring  water  to  dry  lands. 

Mr.  Shaler's  own  work  in  connection  with  mines,  water-supply 
for  cities,  phosphate-beds,  mica-deposits,  and  so  forth,  took 
him  from  Nova  Scotia  to  Florida,  from  the  Atlantic  to  the 
Pacific  Ocean.  One  of  his  chief  uses  as  a  mining  expert,  he  was 


AS  A  MINING  EXPERT  335 

accustomed  to  say,  was  to  keep  people  out  of  wild-cat  schemes, 
and  make  them  examine  a  "proposition"  with  cool  and  critical 
eyes.  This  he  did  not  always  succeed  in  doing.  He  writes  to  one 
of  his  clients :  "  I  regret  to  hear  that  you  are  determined  to  pro- 
ceed to  spend  money  on  but  one  test  of  your  property.  It  is 
evident  that  I  cannot  help  you  by  wholesome  advice.  Let  me 
say  once  again  that  you  are  putting  yourself  in  a  position  to 
waste  money  that  might  readily  be  saved.  With  this  I  will  close 
my  correspondence."  It  is  noteworthy  that  his  cautious,  pains- 
taking handling  of  the  practical  side  of  mining  should  so  often 
have  been  preceded  by  a  brilliant  theoretic  conception  of  the 
problem.  The  Alder  Mine,  in  which  Mr.  McKay  became  inter- 
ested and  which  is  a  part  of  his  endowment  to  Harvard,  was  in 
the  first  place  an  imaginary  discovery,  based  on  a  theoretic 
hypothesis.  The  minerals  he  had  to  do  with  chiefly  were  gold, 
iron,  —  the  prime  metal  of  civilization  as  he  called  it,  —  and 
coal ;  with  reference  to  their  distribution  he  made  many  reports 
for  railway  companies  and  organized  surveys  for  the  extension 
of  their  roads.  In  his  writings  about  these  substances  the  state- 
ment of  facts  is,  as  is  usual  with  him,  accompanied  by  general 
and  philosophical  comments.  In  an  article  entitled  "The 
Exhaustion  of  the  World's  Metals,"  he  says:  "It  is  evident 
that  the  economic  side  of  human  advance,  as  well  as  the  greater 
part  of  the  contriving  foresight  which  characterizes  it,  depends 
upon  the  qualities  of  the  materials  men  turn  to  account.  The 
story  of  the  adaptation  of  substances  to  desires  did  not  begin  with 
man.  It  is  common  among  the  bees  and  ants  and  other  insects. 
We  see  it  in  the  nests  of  birds,  in  the  hot-bed  in  which  the  brush- 
turkey  lays  her  eggs:  these  contrivances  generally  relate  to 
utility  alone,  yet  often  the  sense  of  beauty  guides  the  construc- 
tions, so  that  the  aesthetic  as  well  as  the  utilitarian  motives 
appear  to  exist  in  the  minds  of  many  highly  developed  animals. 
...  In  the  case  of  man,  each  of  his  early  and  simple  conquests 
has  given  a  sense  of  the  powers  of  the  outer  world,  so  that  even 
the  lowest  savage  becomes  an  inquirer,  a  man  of  science  explor- 


336  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

ing  the  world  with  his  imagination  of  things  possible  and  verify- 
ing his  conjectures  by  experiment." 

His  fees  as  a  mining  expert  were  absurdly  small ;  many  of  his 
former  pupils  acting  in  the  same  capacity  asked  twice  and  often 
three  times  as  much  as  he.  Indeed,  it  was  repugnant  to  him  to 
make  out  a  bill  at  all ;  it  was  so  much  easier  to  give  outright  than 
to  put  a  price  upon  what  he  did.  There  were  some  features  of 
this  outside  work  which  he  especially  prized — the  exercise  of  the 
constructive  imagination,  the  use  of  rich  opportunities,  the  get- 
ting things  going,  and  the  contact  with  keen  and  eager  wits. 
Besides  all  this,  it  enabled  him  to  escape  from  what  he  con- 
sidered the  limitations  of  academic  culture,  from  the  state  of 
mind  that  keeps  men  in  the  department  stage  of  development. 
What  he  particularly  wished  to  avoid  was  the  one-sided  experi- 
ence that  falls  to  the  lot  of  most  teachers  and  tempts  them  to 
set  up  special  training,  syntax,  and  gerunds  against  vital  human 
needs. 

Mr.  Shaler  had  a  great  fancy  for  powerful,  even  though  un- 
trained, men,  and  gained  singular  refreshment  from  being  with 
them.  "  Personally,"  he  said,  "  I  value  what  I  have  been  so  for- 
tunate as  to  gain  of  acquaintance  with  very  diverse  sorts  of  men 
more  highly  than  all  else  that  I  have  won  in  the  way  of  know- 
ledge." He  often  spoke  with  pleasure  of  the  long  talks  he  had 
had  with  a  man  employed  at  a  mine  he  sometimes  visited  in  Ala- 
bama, who  had  reflected  upon  most  things  in  the  heavens  above 
and  in  the  earth  beneath,  and  had  worked  out  a  universal  sys- 
tem of  his  own.  Mr.  Shaler  insisted  that  this  type  of  strong 
uneducated  man,  while  he  had  little  learning,  often  had  more 
light  than  those  bred  in  academic  places.  Face  to  face  with  a 
real  man  social  prejudices  vanished.  Whereas,  as  Carlyle  says, 
Dr.  Johnson  bowed  only  to  a  man  with  a  shovel  hat,  he  bowed 
to  a  man  with  any  sort  of  hat  or  none  at  all.  Excessive  conven- 
tion, to  his  mind,  was  like  the  process  of  tanning ;  according  to 
the  ancient  sage,  the  skins  of  the  tiger  and  leopard  when  they 
are  tanned  are  as  the  skins  of  the  dog  and  the  sheep.  He  was 


A  GREAT  MAN  IN  THE  ROCKIES  337 

content  to  meet  a  fellow  being  on  his  own  plane, — at  the  sea- 
level,  if  he  could  not  breathe  freely  in  the  intellectual  climate  of 
the  hilltops.  On  his  part,  the  lowly  person  was  quick  to  discern 
the  good  and  lovable  qualities  of  his  passing  associate,  for 
whether  known  as  doctor  (the  degree  of  S.  D.  was  conferred  in 
1875),  professor,  geologist,  or  by  other  recondite  title,  he  soon 
learned  that  above  all  else  Mr.  Shaler  was  a  friend  of  his  kind, 
having  the  dash  of  humor  that  makes  comradeship  easy  and  the 
knowledge  and  tolerance  that  gives  wide  understanding.  Mr. 
Shaler  was  even  indulgent  to  the  "prospector,"  often  a  pestifer- 
ous fellow  with  his  shiftlessness  and  boundless  hopes.  By  the 
camp-fire  he  would  treat  him  as  the  rich  heir  of  all  his  dreams, 
and  when  he  had  seen  a  mirage,  the  fortune  over  the  divide,  and 
stated  it  as  a  fact,  it  was  a  fact  then  and  there;  but  on  the 
ground,  if  necessary,  the  mirage  was  ruthlessly  dissipated,  and 
the  hope  dispelled ;  yet  not  for  long,  "for  the  miner,"  Mr.  Shaler 
writes,  "is  an  inveterate  hoper.  Nothing  dampens  his  ardor 
and  only  a  few  things  enrage  him.  He  knows  his  temporal  sal- 
vation is  awaiting  him  somewhere  underground  and  is  con- 
tent to  bide  his  time." 

Nothing  pleased  Mr.  Shaler  so  well  during  his  visits  to  the  far 
West  as  to  note,  in  the  minds  of  the  people  he  met,  the  gradual 
recession  of  the  despised  "tenderfoot"  and  the  "professor," 
and  the  emergence  of  the  sort  of  man  they  respected :  the 
resourceful  expert  and  student  of  nature,  the  man  who  could 
manage  a  mule  and  get  the  wheels  out  of  the  rut  when  they 
were  buried  to  the  hubs  in  mud.  The  fact  is,  his  swift  divin- 
ing power,  his  fearlessness  in  the  presence  of  danger,  his  dis- 
regard even  of  the  "bullet  argument,"  his  stories  and  outgoing 
sympathy,  made  him  an  idol  among  those  people.  He  used 
laughingly  to  say  that  whatever  he  might  be  in  Cambridge  he 
was  a  great  man  in  the  Rockies. 

On  one  occasion,  going  for  the  first  time  to  inspect  a  certain 
mine  in  Montana,  he  was  greatly  amused,  when  the  train 
stopped,  at  being  hesitatingly  saluted  on  the  platform  by  a 


338     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

representativeof  the  company, — a  "  practical  miner/'all  swathed 
in  jet  black,  wearing  patent-leather  shoes,  extremely  pointed 
and  of  preternatural  lustre,  and  a  tall  silk  hat.  The  astonish- 
ment of  the  other  party  was  no  less  acute  at  sight  of  a  most 
unacademic-looking  person.  The  miner  afterward  confessed  that 
he  expected  to  see  a  prim,  starched  gentleman  who  "put  on  airs 
and  used  big  words  no  fellow  could  understand."  This  keen- 
eyed  scout  once  came  to  Cambridge  and  much  against  his  will 
was  persuaded  to  stay  to  luncheon  with  us.  The  excuse  he  gave 
for  his  reluctance  was  that  he  was  not  used  to  ladies'  society. 
When  the  meal  was  over,  thinking  to  encourage  him,  Mr.  Shaler 
said,  "Why,  man,  you  did  splendidly."  "Yes,"  he  answered 
reflectively,  "but  I  had  a  hell  of  a  time  of  it  and  I  reckon  I 
won't  try  it  again." 

So  far  from  using  big  words,  Mr.  Shaler's  language  was  singu- 
larly clear-cut  and  direct,  and,  as  we  shall  see,  his  manner  of 
speech  contributed  in  no  small  degree  to  his  success  in  different 
mining  suits  in  which  he  was  called  upon  to  testify.  Especially 
was  this  the  case  in  a  notable  legal  contest  at  Butte,  Montana. 
He  noticed  that  the  experts  on  the  other  side  seemed  to  take 
particular  delight  in  using  difficult  technical  terms  known  to 
the  specialist,  but  Greek  to  the  average  man.  Therefore  when 
his  time  came  to  address  the  court,  employing  none  but  the 
plainest  and  most  straightforward  language,  he  was  encouraged 
while  speaking  by  the  look  of  illumination  on  the  judge's  face, 
which  hitherto  had  been  the  seat  of  baffled  intelligence.  After 
the  trial  was  over  the  judge  came  to  him  and  said,  "  I  thank  you 
for  giving  me  at  least  a  chance  to  understand  the  case.  Up  to 
the  time  you  spoke  I  was  completely  bewildered  by  the  abstruse 
statement  of  the  geological  facts  which  you  have  made  so  clear." 

Mr.  Rossiter  Raymond,  with  whom  he  was  associated  at  this 
time,  writes  as  follows :  — 

What  I  remember  chiefly  in  connection  with  this  case  is  not  the  lawsuit 
itself,  or  Professor  Shaler 's  testimony  in  connection  with  it,  but  the  oppor- 
tunity which  it  gave  to  me  for  personal  association  with  him.  During  its 


RAPID  TRANSITION  OF  THOUGHT  339 


prosecution,  we  sojourned  twice  in  Butte,  occupying  rooms  in  the 
hotel,  and  enjoying,  after  our  professional  day's  work  was  done,  the  oppor- 
tunity of  friendly  communion.  In  these  hours  of  free  intercourse,  I  learned 
much  of  his  deepest  feelings  and  purposes  concerning,  not  only  his  contem- 
plated contributions  to  physical  science,  but  especially  his  responsibilities 
and  hopes  concerning  the  moral,  as  well  as  intellectual,  development  of 
the  young  men  for  whom,  as  the  head  of  the  Lawrence  Scientific  School,  he 
regarded  himself  as  responsible.  It  was  from  these  conferences  that  I  derived 
that  sense  of  Professor  Shaler's  deep  religious  feeling  and  motive  which  will 
remain  permanently  associated  with  my  memory  of  him.  In  accordance 
with  his  own  request  and  initiative,  rather  than  mine,  we  held  many  an 
informal  session  over  the  old-fashioned  Bible;  and  I  feel  myself  warranted 
in  saying  that,  as  to  the  eternal  truths  which  it  declares,  we  found  ourselves, 
after  illimitable  and  thoroughly  fearless  and  unconventional  discussion, 
not  far  apart. 

In  one  of  his  letters,  dated  Butte,  Montana,  alluding  to  the 
above  case,  Mr.  Shaler  writes :  "  The  question  is  a  difficult  one, 
but  I  hope  to  compass  it  without  undue  strain.  I  have  had  a 
busy  day  in  the  mine  and  on  the  surface.  I  shall  be  very  glad 
to  escape  from  this  very  tiresome  place."  And  yet  it  was  in  the 
intervals  of  his  taxing  professional  work  there  that  the  second 
part  ("The  Rival  Queens")  of  the  Elizabeth  series  was  written. 
His  window  at  the  time  overlooked  a  street  full  of  vulgar  and 
even  depraved  incidents  of  frontier  life ;  a  stalwart  Norwegian 
working  lustily  at  his  blacksmith's  forge  was  the  only  whole- 
some human  sight  his  eyes  met.  But,  as  he  tells  us  elsewhere, 
he  was  curiously  independent  of  what  are  considered  favorable 
surroundings  for  mental  work.  The  poetic  impulse  would  often 
come  to  him  in  a  flash,  even  when  suffering  much  pain,  or  bur- 
dened with  cares.  Sometimes  while  engaged  in  ordinary  con- 
versation an  almost  instantaneous  transition  of  thought  would 
take  place. 

This  instantaneous  movement  of  the  mind  in  professional 
and  other  cases,  where  apparently  there  had  been  no  time  for 
preparation,  enabled  him  to  reach  conclusions  so  swiftly,  to 
pronounce  his  judgment  so  decidedly,  as  to  awaken  doubt  as  to 
its  soundness.  But  it  did  not  take  long  for  the  skeptic  to  find 


340     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

out  that  he  was  right,  and  that  intuitively  he  had  divined  the 
truth,  or  that  in  his  multitudinous  experience  he  had  met 
the  same  conditions  before.  His  readiness  was  undoubtedly 
the  stored-up  result  of  persistent  and  almost  unconscious  study 
of  the  actualities  and  problems  of  life.  He  might  well  have  said 
in  the  words  of  Daniel  Webster,  "There  is  no  such  thing  as 
extemporaneous  acquisition." 

To  go  back  to  his  Western  experiences,  there  were  few  phases 
of  mining  life,  camp  or  town,  with  which  he  was  not  acquainted, 
and  his  descriptions  of  them  remain  fixed  in  the  mind.  Of  one 
of  these  dwelling-places,  he  writes :  "  It  is  curious  to  notice  the 
perfect  forlornness  of  the  mountain  settlement :  it  is  distinctly 
a  higher  order  of  miserableness  than  any  other  region  can 
afford.  A  wide  range  of  experience  in  the  backwoods  of  lower 
levels  does  not  prepare  one  for  the  utter  grovelling  look  that 
hangs  over  these  shanty  towns."  And  again :  "  The  dilapidation 
that  comes  to  these  hut-towns  is  very  rapid.  Soon  nothing 
remains  but  a  modern  kitchen-midden  of  broken  bottles  and 
crushed  tin  cans."  Of  the  ranchers'  houses,  he  says :  "  They  are 
mostly  half  underground,  and  are  a  sort  of  gopher-holes,  gener- 
ally with  sod  roofs  and  with  a  heap  of  empty  tin  cans  excreted 
at  the  only  opening  of  the  den." 

Where  the  railways  stopped  and  coaches  took  up  the  burdens 
they  discharged  to  carry  them  still  higher  in  the  mountains,  the 
caravans  they  formed,  in  Mr.  Shaler's  eyes,  gave  the  most  pic- 
turesque aspects  of  mountain  life.  "The  teamsters,"  he  writes, 
"are  silent,  indefatigable  fellows,  brutal  in  every  outward  ap- 
pearance, yet,  withal,  patient  with  their  difficulties  and  helpful 
of  each  other,  unless  the  other  is  a  'Greaser/  In  two  hundred 
miles'  travel,  I  did  not  hear  a  brutal  word  from  one  man  to  an- 
other, and  I  was  indebted  to  them  for  many  considerate  acts. 
In  his  difficulties  with  his  teams  a  man  will  lift  up  his  voice  and 
address  the  Infinite  in  a  diabolical  homily  that  would  befit 
Milton's  Satan,  and  then,  subsiding  like  a  geyser,  remain  silent 
for  the  rest  of  the  day.  At  night  when  they  gather  around  the 


WESTERN  FERTILITY  341 

fire  in  the  low-walled,  turf -covered  ranches,  they  are  perfectly 
mute :  they  sit  on  the  benches  as  still  as  mummies  until  they 
slip  down  upon  the  floor  and  snore  until  morning.  They  often 
camp  alone  by  the  roadside.  One  night  I  sought  directions  from 
one  of  these  solitary  men.  He  was  a  huge  grizzle-bearded  fellow, 
whom  I  surprised  cooking  his  supper  by  a  little  fire  in  a  niche  in 
the  rocks  near  the  team.  His  ugly  visage  stood  out  in  the  blaze 
of  his  bacon,  which  he  was  toasting  on  a  stick.  He  gave  me  suf- 
ficient answer  without  looking  up  to  see  who  was  shouting  at 
him  out  of  the  darkness." 

On  one  of  his  journeys  westward,  the  fertility  of  the  soil  (com- 
pared with  the  poor  relation's  share  of  the  earth  in  the  East) 
seemed  to  him  excessively  gross.  "The  land,"  he  says,  "loves 
the  plow,  or  at  least  submits  to  it,  as  the  ox  gives  himself  to  the 
yoke.  There  is  an  almost  painful  monotony  in  this  utter  giving 
up  of  the  earth  to  the  profitable  uses  of  man.  The  soil  grows 
fatter  and  more  fertile  as  it  goes  nearer  the  centre  of  the  Missis- 
sippi valley,  until,  in  Illinois,  it  seems  a  perfect  desert  of  tall 
withered  corn-stalks  and  wheat  stubble  that  stretches  to  the 
horizon.  The  towns  have  a  look  of  squalid  plenty.  Corn  is  trod- 
den under  foot,  and  about  the  stations  its  grains  often  are  as 
thick  in  the  mud  as  are  pebbles  in  New  England.  Here  and 
there  in  wide  fields  a  little  rectangular  patch  of  surface  shows  the 
roof  of  the  master  of  a  domain  big  enough  for  a  lord.  The  sky, 
too,  is  prairie-like  in  its  uniformity :  it  is  a  vacuous  expanse  of 
clearness  or  cloud  without  the  diversity  that  a  varied  surface 
alone  can  give  it." 

Elsewhere  he  says:  "The  moon  is  full  and  the  mountains 
show  almost  as  well  as  by  day.  Night  quiets  the  winds  here  and 
settles  the  mists  and  drifting  snows,  so  that  for  seeing  the  time 
is  almost  as  good  as  day.  The  walls  of  the  gorge  stand  as  steep 
as  cliffs  can,  with  their  fantastic  spired  battlements  a  thousand 
feet  above  the  stream  (the  river  Platte)  that  winds  through  the 
ruins  below.  All  the  moods  of  architecture  —  spires,  castle- 
towers,  and  city- walls  —  are  mimicked  in  their  variations  of 


342     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

shape.  .  .  .  For  four  hours  with  the  throttle  valve  wide  open 
and  a  steady  panting  breath,  the  engine  toils  up  the  steep 
and  crooked  way,  gaining  about  five  thousand  feet  in  height, 
eventually  escaping  from  the  gorge  into  the  vast  mountain 
plains  called  the  South  Park.  ..." 

And  yet,  notwithstanding  his  many  entertaining  and  in- 
structive contacts  with  men  and  things,  —  contacts  such  as  only 
fall  to  the  share  of  one  who  is  on  the  lookout  for  natural  phe- 
nomena and  human  qualities  alike,  —  these  long  journeys  over 
great  stretches  of  the  earth's  surface  void  of  historic  associa- 
tions of  an  enriching  kind,  after  the  first  novelty  wore  off  were 
tiresome  to  the  last  degree.  There  was  one  spiritual  profit  he 
gained  from  them,  and  that  was  the  enlargement  of  his  sym- 
pathies, although  it  scarcely  seemed  as  if  they  needed  further 
amplification.  Travelling,  often  alone,  in  far-off  places  and 
lodging  in  strange  inns  served  to  arouse  a  feeling  of  compassion 
for  solitary  people.  The  isolation  of  most  human  beings,  as  he 
saw  them  in  these  wanderings,  was  borne  in  upon  him,  and  he 
pitied  all  who  were  driven,  either  by  restlessness  or  by  neces- 
sity, from  the  shelter  and  affections  of  the  home. 

In  the  early  days  the  little  sleeping-cars  were,  as  he  says, 
"crammed  with  a  motley  lot  of  humanity,  supercivilized  and 
savage  in  all  degrees."  From  among  this  miscellaneous  cargo 
of  human  beings  he  picked  up  acquaintances  easily.  A  racy 
character  when  found  was  a  boon  which  served  to  quicken  the 
slow-going  hours.  The  defenceless  and  incompetent  he  be- 
friended, especially  women  travelling  alone,  or  any  creature 
who  could  not  well  stand  by  himself.  Often  when  he  would  fain 
have  passed  the  time  in  silence  and  repose,  his  peace  was  broken 
in  upon  by  people  whom  he  had  met  before  —  old  students  who 
turned  up  everywhere,  vigilant  young  men,  who,  in  the  kindness 
of  their  hearts,  would  make  a  point  of  keeping  a  close  eye  upon 
their  old  master,  lest  he  be  lonesome,  when  solitude  was  really 
the  thing  he  most  desired. 

During  this  fruitful  period  of  which  we  are  writing  Mr.  Shaler 


THE  FIGHT  AGAINST  ILL  HEALTH          343 

did  a  great  deal  of  literary  work.  Besides  three  separate  books, 
and  an  important  paper  on  the  Physiography  of  North  America, 
contained  in  the  "Narrative  and  Critical  History  of  America/1 
edited  by  Justin  Winsor,  which  appear  on  his  list  of  publica- 
tions, are  a  number  of  valuable  scientific  reports,  among  them 
Reports  on  the  Geology  of  Nantucket,  Mount  Desert,  Cape 
Ann,  and  Martha's  Vineyard.  There  are  also  his  annual  execu- 
tive reports  of  the  Atlantic  Coast  Division  of  the  United  States 
Geological  Survey;  a  preliminary  report  on  the  Coal  Swamps 
of  the  Eastern  United  States,  etc.;  monographs  on  other  scien- 
tific subjects  and  magazine  articles  too  numerous  to  mention 
here.  The  investigations  which  preceded  these  reports  exacted 
much  of  his  time  in  the  study  of  the  geological  problems  of  the 
localities  and  a  great  deal  of  travelling  at  all  seasons  of  the 
year.  At  this  period  he  also  was  doing  his  full  share  of  teach- 
ing and  taking  an  active  part  in  the  discussion  of  educational 
questions. 

Indifferent  health,  —  sick  headaches  and  other  maladies,  — 
now  as  always,  was  something  to  be  reckoned  with,  its  thwarting 
power  dominated,  and,  instead  of  being  allowed  to  take  the  first 
place  in  his  thoughts,  was  reduced  to  a  secondary,  or  mere  menial 
position,  wherein  it  served  to  keep  his  activities  within  bound 
and  enforced  rest  at  a  certain  time  of  the  day,  usually  just  after 
luncheon.  It  also  prevented  any  waste  of  time,  and  one  hour 
or  place  under  its  discipline  became  as  good  as  another  for  the 
doing  of  a  task.  These  were  some  of  the  spoils  won  out  of  the 
battle.  Indeed,  by  his  skilful  management  of  his  foe,  reinforced 
by  the  wise  counsel  of  his  physician  and  friend,  Dr.  Henry  P. 
Walcott,  it  was  in  a  way  made  to  dig  its  own  grave.  And  yet  it  is 
impossible  to  reckon  the  inner  suffering  or  the  tax  that  almost 
constant  physical  annoyance  put  upon  his  patience  and  endur- 
ance. It  made  him  at  times  exceedingly  sensitive  to  anything 
like  confusion  or  noise  in  his  surroundings ;  his  house,  therefore, 
was  run  quietly  and  methodically,  and  as  far  as  possible  all 
opposition  was  withheld  in  order  that  no  aggravating  circum- 


344  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

stance  might  add  to  his  nervousness,  for  in  the  outside  world 
there  was  always  enough  to  disturb  the  equipoise  of  one  of  his 
ardent  temperament. 

In  1886  there  came  about  a  change  of  residence,  and  the 
Bow  Street  house,  now  the  site  of  Westmorly  Hall,  where  he 
had  spent  many  happy  years,  was  sold.  The  street,  from  hav- 
ing been  a  quiet  little  side  passage,  had  become  the  highway  to 
boat-house  and  students'  lodgings.  The  purchase  of  this  place 
had  been  in  a  way  the  outcome  of  what  is  recognized  as  an  ideal 
state  of  society — the  condition  where  every  man  owns  his  own 
house.  At  least  such  seemed  to  be  the  case  in  Cambridge  in 
1867,  for  after  searching  vainly  to  find  a  dwelling  for  rent,  hap- 
pening one  day  to  walk  through  the  old  part  of  the  town,  Mr. 
Shaler  noticed  an  auctioneer's  flag  hanging  from  the  house 
he  was  passing.  Taking  counsel  at  home,  he  returned  in  a  few 
minutes  to  the  site  and  before  the  next  half-hour  was  over  he 
had  become  the  owner  of  the  old-fashioned  abode  that  for  some 
obscure  reason  had  been  put  on  the  market.  The  big  chimneys 
were  its  chief  attractions,  built  at  a  time  when  a  hole  in  the 
floor  was  not  recognized  as  a  substitute  for  the  family  hearth. 
In  re-introducing  the  open  wood  fire,  Mr.  Shaler  felt  that  he 
was  doing  good  service ;  the  air-tight  stove  and  furnace  doubt- 
less had  their  uses,  but  were  not  to  be  depended  upon  as  sources 
of  joy  in  the  library,  or  any  place  where  good  fellowship  was 
expected.  He  lived  to  see  fires  blazing  on  the  hearths  of  most 
of  his  friends,  and  insisted  that  the  open  fire  and  the  open  heart 
were  two  things  that  naturally  went  together. 

The  Quincy  Street  house,  overlooking  the  College  Yard,  was 
charmingly  placed.  It  was  sunny,  quiet,  and  nearer  to  his 
office,  especially  when  that  was  transferred  from  the  Museum 
to  University  Hall.  And  henceforth  all  that  went  on  within  the 
College  enclosure  became  a  part  of  his  life,  from  the  ringing  of 
the  early  morning  bell  to  the  "rushes"  on  "  Bloody  Monday." 
He  had  a  keen  scent  for  a  fire  and  was  always  among  the  first  to 
appear  on  the  scene.  His  quick  response  to  the  call  of  the  fire- 


THE  QUINCY  STREET   HOUSE   IN  CAMBRIDGE 


THE  QUINCY  STREET  HOUSE  345 

bell  was  a  relic  of  his  youth,  when  there  were  no  paid  firemen 
and  the  alarm  called  out  the  active  and  daring  young  men  of 
the  town,  who  vied  with  one  another  in  chivalrous  acts  of  rescue 
service.  President  Eliot  was  also  a  prompt  attendant  at  fires; 
indeed  one  suspected  an  unconscious  rivalry  between  them.  At 
any  rate  Mr.  Shaler  rather  crowed  over  the  fact  that  while  the 
President  had  "bossed"  the  fire  that  threatened  to  consume 
the  near-by  Baptist  Church,  he  himself  had  an  active  hand  in 
extinguishing  the  conflagration  at  the  Colonial  Club,  while  his 
neighbor  slumbered  peacefully  all  unconscious  of  the  lost  op- 
portunity; and  so  the  account  eventually  was  evened. 

For  many  years  the  house,  for  a  sober  old  town  like  Cambridge, 
was  a  scene  of  comparative  gayety;  his  daughters  and  their 
young  friends,  animated  by  the  protean  activities  of  youth, 
made  it  a  cheerful  place,  and  doubtless  many  who  were  young 
then  but  are  mature  now,  scattered  over  the  face  of  the  earth, 
have  pleasant  memories  of  the  old  library,  for  in  its  retreats 
some  of  them  met  their  "fate"  —  their  lovers,  husbands,  and 
wives.  Mr.  Shaler  enjoyed  the  Sunday  afternoon  receptions  at 
his  house,  which  became  a  feature  of  its  social  life.  On  these 
occasions  he  was  most  genial  and  solicitous  that  every  one 
should  have  a  pleasant  time  —  the  students  and  other  friends, 
and  also  strangers  who,  knowing  he  was  then  at  home,  with  or 
without  an  introduction  would  come  to  see  him.  This  free 
entrance  led  sometimes  to  a  curious  grouping  of  people  —  a 
Chinaman,  an  Englishman,  and  a  South  American  being  brought 
into  a  close  but  good-natured  juxtaposition.  Between  students 
and  what  were  known  as  "grown-up  people"  there  sometimes 
arose  a  slight  feeling  of  antagonism,  the  latter  maintaining  that 
they  came  Sunday  afternoons  for  enjoyment  and  not  to  do  mis- 
sionary work  —  for  such  they  considered  talking  to  immature 
youths ;  but  on  the  whole,  animated  by  good  will  towards  host 
and  hostess,  the  two  elements  did  their  best  to  get  on  amiably 
together. 

Mr.  Shaler's  courtesy  to  every  one  within  his  doors,  from  the 


346     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

humblest  washwoman  to  the  most  distinguished  guest,  was  a 
marked  characteristic.  This  allusion  to  distinguished  guests 
reminds  one  of  an  anecdote  he  often  told  of  Huxley.  During 
the  great  biologist's  visit  to  Cambridge,  Mr.  Shaler  invited  him 
and  his  wife  to  take  a  drive  in  the  country.  After  passing  the 
market-gardens  out  Belmont  way,  Huxley  suddenly  called  out, 
"Stop,  driver,  stop.  There,  Shaler,"  he  exclaimed,  "is  n't  that 
tobacco  growing  in  that  field? "  Receiving  " yes"  for  an  answer, 
he  stood  up  in  the  carriage,  waved  his  hat,  and  shouted  three 
cheers  for  tobacco,  adding  in  an  aggrieved  tone :  "And  to  think 
that  I  should  have  lived  forty  years  without  knowing  the  com- 
fort of  the  weed." 

Mr.  Shaler  struck  up  quite  a  comradeship  with  Mr.  Kipling 
when  the  latter  visited  Cambridge.  The  novelist  was  capti- 
vated by  the  professor's  stories;  those  relating  to  Western 
experience,  he  said,  were  just  the  things  no  writer  of  fiction 
could  ever  invent.  They  first  met  at  a  dinner  at  Miss  Grace 
Norton's,  and  Mr.  Shaler  liked  to  tell  the  story  of  what  hap- 
pened there.  On  their  way  home  he  said  to  his  wife,  "What 
were  you  and  Kipling  talking  about  at  table?  You  both  looked 
as  mystified  as  if  you  had  seen  a  ghost."  The  substance  of  the 
talk  was  as  follows.  In  a  lull  of  the  general  conversation  she 
heard  Kipling  say  to  his  hostess,  "  When  I  was  at  Tisbury  last 
summer."  The  confusion  of  tongues  made  the  rest  *of  his 
remark  inaudible.  When  the  opportunity  occurred  she  asked, 
"How  long  were  you  at  Tisbury,  Mr.  Kipling?"  —  "Six 
weeks,"  was  the  answer.  —  "Six  weeks,"  she  repeated,  "how 
extraordinary!"  Again  something  was  said  on  the  other  side 
which  made  him  turn  a  deaf  ear.  A  few  minutes  later  he  in- 
quired, "Pray,  madam,  what  is  so  extraordinary  in  my  being 
at  Tisbury?"  adding  almost  defiantly,  "Yes,  I  stayed  there 
six  weeks  with  my  uncle  and  then  went  to  Chilmark."  —  "To 
Chilmark?"  she  exclaimed.  — "Yes,  to  Chilmark."  — "How 
remarkable!"  —  "Why  remarkable?"  —  "Because,  to  tell  you 
the  truth,  there  are  not  many  people  like  you  who  go  to  Tisbury, 


CONVERSATION  WITH  MR.  KIPLING         347 

and  if  I  must  say  it,  there  are  not  many  like  ourselves.  I  should 
think,  in  a  mere  village,  we  might  have  met."  —  "A  mere  vil- 
lage? Explain  yourself."  And  then  suddenly  receiving  a  ray  of 
light,  "Where  is  this  Tisbury  and  Chilmark  of  yours?"  she 
asked.  —  "England,  of  course.  Where  did  you  suppose?"  — 
"Oh,  I  thought  you  had  been  at  Martha's  Vineyard,"  she  an- 
swered. "Our  farm  there  is  partly  in  the  town  of  Tisbury  and 
partly  in  Chilmark."  —  "That's  interesting,"  said  Kipling. 
"  Some  one  from  my  part  of  the  world  must  have  given  the  old 
names  to  those  new  places.  I  should  very  much  like  to  see  them." 
—  "Then  come  for  a  visit."  —  "It  will  give  me  pleasure." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

COUNTRY   LIVING 

IN  1888  Mr.  Shaler  bought  a  tract  of  land  on  the  northern  shore 
of  Martha's  Vineyard,  and  then  he  bought  another  and  another 
old  farmstead,  in  order,  as  he  said,  to  keep  undesirable  people 
on  the  farther  side  of  the  hedge,  until  he  owned  no  inconsider- 
able portion  of  that  part  of  the  island.  And  here  for  many  years 
he  made  his  summer  home,  the  idea  gaining  upon  him  that  to 
cultivate  a  farm  was  a  large  share  of  the  duty  of  man ;  in  his 
own  case  it  undoubtedly  became  a  large  share  of  his  pleasure. 
The  farm  was  a  refuge  from  the  life  that  cost  so  much  in  wear 
and  tear  —  that  life  which  to  the  casual  observer  seemed  far  re- 
moved from  the  feverish  stir  of  the  great  world.  Many  a  tired 
man  of  business,  coming  to  Cambridge  to  look  after  his  son, 
while  sitting  at  the  window  in  Mr.  Shaler 's  library  overlooking 
the  college  green,  has  commented  upon  the  scene  of  beauty  and 
repose  and  upon  the  professor's  freedom  from  care.  He  knew 
little  of  the  unending  solicitude  to  make  the  education  of  his 
boy  a  pursuit  of  knowledge  and  not  merely  a  rush  for  the  degree. 
It  was  sequestered,  but  not  restful. 

Mr.  Shaler  was  first  conscious  of  the  charm  of  the  island  of 
Martha's  Vineyard  when  as  a  boy  he  made  a  geological  excur- 
sion to  it.  Again,  while  doing  some  work  for  the  Coast  Survey 
he  travelled  from  one  end  to  the  other,  gaining  refreshment,  as 
he  phrases  it,  "from  the  soft  air,  the  broad,  smooth  fields,  the 
rounded  domes  of  foliage,  and  the  unusual  green,  together  with 
the  drowse  in  which  all  is  steeped."  He  learned  to  regard  the 
island  as  "an  oasis  of  salubrity  in  our  New  England  bad  cli- 
mate/' its  average  warmth  being  two  degrees  above  Boston. 
He  was  also  pleased  to  regard  it  as  a  natural  asylum  to  be 
shared  with  worn-out  sea-captains  —  "looking  like  the  ani- 


CHOOSING  A  COUNTRY  PLACE  349 

mated  figure-heads  of  old-fashioned  ships"  —  who  came  there 
to  end  their  days. 

Since  he  never  forgot  the  impression  a  place  made  upon  him, 
the  memory  of  the  island  lingered  in  his  mind  until  he  was  ready 
to  provide  himself  with  a  country  home  —  not  a  half -acre  lot, 
but  something  of  the  nature  of  a  farm.  The  love  of  the  country, 
with  its  actualities  of  animals  and  crops  and  the  local  inde- 
pendence, touching  the  border  of  exclusiveness,  was  strong 
within  him ;  indeed,  it  was  a  tradition  in  his  region  of  the  coun- 
try that  the  good  of  life  was  only  to  be  had  away  from  the 
crowded  centres  which  hindered  men  from  being  wise  and  happy. 
What  he  desired  was  a  "civil  wilderness"  — that  is,  spacious 
possessions  tamed  to  comfort,  but  not  made  artificial,  nor  yet 
closely  packed  with  humanity.  He  used  to  say  he  loved  his 
fellow  men  —  but  not  too  near.  He  liked  the  stateliness  of 
uncrowded  fields,  the  sense  of  freedom  and  security  from  the 
intrusion  of  unsought  companions  while  tramping  over  land  he 
owned.  The  seclusion  of  the  place  he  chose  was  one  of  its  chief 
attractions,  and  the  Seven  Gates  through  which  he  was  obliged 
to  pass  when  he  first  took  possession  of  it  were  welcome  bar- 
riers between  him  and  the  dust  and  noise  of  the  busy  world. 
There  was  also  at  foundation  in  Mr.  Shaler's  nature  a  feudal 
leaning  toward  a  large  estate  with  numerous  retainers,  kins- 
folk, and  dependents.  In  the  old  days  he  would  have  made  an 
ideal  master,  asking  little  service  and  giving  much  reward.  And 
for  this  reason,  he  was  never  severe  on  the  subject  of  abstract 
justice,  for  he  could  not  conceive  in  human  relations  of  one 
man  taking  unfair  advantage  of  another.  Slavery,  therefore, 
was  not  altogether  repugnant  to  him.  He  considered  it  a  good 
fortune  for  the  slave,  but  a  taxing  relation  for  the  master.  It 
was  an  institution  not  to  be  perpetuated,  but  gradually  to  be 
got  rid  of. 

It  was  not,  however,  that  he  might  pass  his  days  in  ease  and 
isolation  that  Mr.  Shaler  sought  the  country.  He  had  the  natu- 
ralist's craving  for  contact  with  the  earth  in  all  possible  ways; 


350     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

for  a  chance  to  solve  some  of  the  problems  of  agriculture  with 
which,  under  his  father's  and  grandfather's  guidance,  he  had 
been  more  or  less  concerned  from  his  youth.  More  than  this,  he 
had  an  almost  sentimental  affection  for  the  earth,  "knowing 
earth  for  a  mother,"  and  firmly  believed  that  the  universe  of 
matter  so  far  from  being  hostile,  as  the  old  view  of  nature  taught, 
was  a  close  ally  to  the  world  of  spiritual  things.  He  somewhere 
says:  "With  a  bit  of  land  any  one  may  play  the  part  of  a  god. 
...  In  this  day  of  experiments,  when  men  see  deeper  in  the 
world  about  them,  a  new  field  of  enjoyment  is  opened  to  those 
who  are  privileged  to  possess  the  earth."  In  his  opinion  the  tiller 
of  the  soil,  owing  to  his  relations  to  the  functions  of  the  earth, 
is  preeminently  a  naturalist,  and  more  than  any  other  kind  of 
man  is  in  a  position  to  gain  the  spiritual  profit  which  may  come 
from  an  intimate  relation  with  the  forces  which  control  the  de- 
velopment of  the  world.  He  deplored  in  agricultural  commu- 
nities the  influence  at  work  tending  to  separate  the  youth  from 
the  fields  and  turn  his  longings  and  ambitions  away  from  the 
occupations  of  the  soil-tiller.  He  urged  that  the  master  who  is  to 
teach  the  ways  of  Nature  must  be  intimately  acquainted  with 
the  work  of  the  farmer.  " My  own  experience/'  he  says,  "shows 
me  how  a  man  with  moderate  labor  and  ordinary  capacities 
may  keep  himself  somewhat  familiar  with  the  agricultural  art 
and  at  the  same  time  know  enough  of  natural  science  to  be  a 
teacher  in  that  department  of  knowledge.  ...  I  have  never 
essayed  the  task,  but  I  feel  confident  that  I  could  take  a  class 
of  farmers'  sons  and  daughters  and  lead  them  through  a  course 
of  natural  science  where  every  point  and  every  illustration 
would  be  taken  from  the  facts  with  which  they  are  intimately 
familiar,  without  the  least  risk  of  loss  of  attention  in  the  work. 
I  believe  this  could  be  done  by  any  fairly  competent  teacher." 
Fortunately  for  his  own  peace  of  mind,  he  undertook  no 
teaching  while  in  the  country.  For  several  summers  the  en- 
gineering class  of  the  Lawrence  Scientific  School  camped  on  his 
grounds  and  made  use  of  them  for  practice  in  their  work. 


MARTHA'S  VINEYARD  351 

Though  nominally  not  in  charge,  he  could  not  quite  divest  him- 
self of  responsibility,  and  the  very  presence  of  a  body  of  students 
so  near  at  hand  was  a  source  of  care  to  him,  so  that  eventually 
the  summer  station  for  this  branch  of  teaching  was  transferred 
to  Squam  Lake.  The  fascination  which  Martha's  Vineyard  had 
for  Mr.  Shaler,  aside  from  its  restorative  climate,  was  in  part 
due  to  its  geological  formations.  There  were  the  peculiar  and 
brilliant  beds  of  clay  at  Gay  Head ;  on  his  own  place,  a  long 
stretch  of  seashore  where  he  could  watch  the  work  of  the  sea  ; 
and  everywhere  traces  of  glacial  action.  Unlike  most  farmers, 
he  coveted  the  rocks  as  much  as  he  did  the  soil ;  and  he  bought 
a  special  tract  of  land  that  he  might  have,  as  he  said,  a  moraine 
of  his  own.  His  feeling  in  regard  to  these  features  of  the  land- 
scape was  recognized  by  his  friends.  Mr.  W.  E.  Darwin  writes, 
"There  is  nothing  I  should  like  better  than  to  visit  your 
private  preserve  of  kames  and  aprons  at  Martha's  Vineyard." 
Many  other  stretches  of  land,  for  various  assigned  reasons, 
but  mainly  because  he  had  the  land  hunger  of  his  forbears,  were 
purchased  from  the  widely  scattered  children  of  the  old  folk 
who,  in  the  intervals  of  their  toiling  with  the  sea,  built  bowlder 
walls  and  scratched  the  sterile  soil  for  a  living.  Most  of  their 
houses,  under  stress  of  weather,  had  so  fallen  to  decay  that  in 
some  instances  only  chimneys  and  foundations  remained  to 
mark  the  spot  where  a  home  once  had  been ;  or  flowers, — these 
in  their  season  blossoming  persistently  in  the  lonely  places. 
Among  them  the  old-fashioned  daffies  seemed  best  to  have  with- 
stood neglect;  and  taking  this  hint  of  their  hardihood,  Mr. 
Shaler  and  his  companion  planted  thousands  of  new  bulbs  of 
their  kind,  so  that  in  the  spring,  when  the  east  winds  of  March 
invited  to  shelter,  one  was  tempted  forth  to  gather  the  yellow 
blossoms  that  glowed  alongside  of  the  bowlders,  the  old  founda- 
tions, and  stone  walls.  As  the  crop  increased,  the  coming  of 
the  daffodils  and  their  distribution  in  Cambridge  got  to  be  a 
floral  event  that  was  looked  forward  to  by  many  friends.  Mr. 
Shaler  was  also  very  much  interested  in  the  planting  of 


352     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

trees,  and  loved  to  watch  their  growth  from  year  to  year.  In 
addition  to  tree-planting  at  the  right  season,  during  one  of  his 
winter  visits  to  "Seven  Gates"  he  planted  several  thousand 
nuts  with  a  crowbar  through  the  snow.  These  were  put  in  dif- 
ferent soils  and  exposure,  to  see  where  they  would  grow  best. 
He  was  very  persistent  in  his  efforts  to  acclimatize  the  English 
primrose,  at  last  succeeding  marvellously  on  a  hillside  sloping  to 
the  north  and  shaded  from  the  direct  rays  of  the  sun.  It  was 
thus  that  the  interest  of  his  "alleged  farm,"  as  he  called  it,  in- 
creased, and  acquired  a  value  of  its  own  independent  of  being 
a  harbor  of  refuge  which  at  first  was  its  chief  excuse  for  being. 

At  times  the  restraints  and  worries  of  his  environment  bore 
heavily  upon  him  and  the  longing  for  space  and  solitude  be- 
came overwhelming.  Under  this  stress  he  would  set  out  for  the 
country  with  the  zest  of  one  who  scents  afar  the  perfume  of 
green  fields.  The  train  was  no  sooner  under  way  than  he  would 
toss  aside  his  hat,  shut  his  eyes,  and  take  a  deep  breath,  every 
line  of  his  face  showing  the  relief  of  one  who  had  shaken  off  the 
halter.  The  satisfaction  grew  as  he  realized  with  the  passing 
of  each  milestone  that  he  was  on  his  way  to  a  studentless  wil- 
derness, an  academic  Sahara.  He  had  frequent  recurrent  attacks 
of  the  rural  mania,  and  when  they  came  it  was  difficult  to  per- 
suade him  that  there  was  anything  else  worth  living  for  besides 
a  trip  to  the  Vineyard;  moreover,  it  often  required  cunning 
stratagem  to  keep  him  from  making  the  venture  when  the 
weather  was  bitter  and  the  time  inconvenient. 

The  visits  to  the  farm  which  he  enjoyed  most  were  in  the 
autumn  just  after  the  struggles  of  the  college  year  were  over, 
when  things  had  in  a  fashion  settled  down  to  a  semblance  of 
order,  when  students  had  temporarily  at  least  been  shaken  into 
place,  the  square  peg  got  out  of  the  round  hole  of  elective  be- 
wilderment. In  the  country,  also,  the  fervid  time  of  reaping 
was  at  an  end  and  the  fields,  with  their  stacks  of  full-eared  corn, 
slumbered  peacefully  through  the  autumn  days.  Here,  re- 
moved from  a  veritable  storm-centre  of  contending  wits,  there 


LIFE  AT  SEVEN  GATES  353 

was  nothing  to  tease  him  out  of  the  repose  he  so  much  needed, 
and  gradually  refreshment  came  to  body  and  mind  from  the 
night's  sound  sleep  untortured  by  the  noise  of  bells  or  street- 
cars, and  from  the  long  morning's  walk  with  hoe  in  hand  over 
the  bare  fields,  where  he  made  war  upon  the  thistles.  In  these 
hours  of  quiet  and  solitude  life  was  to  him  a  serene  delight. 
In  the  afternoon,  after  some  writing,  there  was  another  tramp, 
not  companionless  now,  on  the  beach,  or  over  the  peaceful  hills ; 
lingering  perhaps  until  the  young  moon  was  first  seen  mirrored 
in  the  waters  of  the  little  pond  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  or  until 
the  lamps  in  the  laborers'  windows  emitted  light  enough  to 
keep  the  feet  straight  in  the  narrow  paths  the  sheep  had  made. 
On  the  way  home  Mr.  Shaler  would  often  stop  at  the  spring, 
beneath  the  tupelo  tree,  for  a  draught  of  its  sweet  waters;  or 
again,  he  would  go  out  of  his  way  to  select  with  fastidious  care 
a  hickory  log  that  it  might  give  the  last  touch  of  perfection  to 
the  evening  fire. 

He  liked  to  putter  over  the  fire,  having,  as  always,  a  theory 
to  put  into  practice,  —  a  method  which  involved  the  proper 
arrangement  of  the  logs  and  the  right  amount  of  ashes  to  be 
guarded  as  a  store  of  heat,  details  about  which  in  Cambridge 
he  was  comparatively  indifferent.  Even  in  summer  both  here 
and  in  Cambridge  he  kept  a  little  fire  burning,  not  so  much  for 
the  heat,  but,  it  was  suspected,  that  he  might  frequently  light 
his  unsteady  pipe  with  a  live  coal,  —  a  Kentucky  habit  which 
he  cherished.  To  do  this  was  undoubtedly  a  pleasure,  but  over 
and  above  its  ministration  to  the  smoker's  tranquil  joy,  a  fire 
on  the  hearth  excited  his  poetic  fancy.  In  one  of  his  letters  he 
writes :  — 

By  a  fire  I  am  never  altogether  alone,  but  have  strange  company  in  the 
beings  that  pass  as  shadows  are  said  to  do  in  the  magician's  mirror;  indeed 
the  fireplace  becomes  as  it  were  another  window  which  admits  our  vision  to 
the  scenes  of  days  gone  by  or  into  that  dark  profound  we  call  the  future.  .  .  . 
Eras  ago  these  few  black  lumps  were  the  gorgeous  vegetation  of  the  tropical 
forests,  plants  stretching  their  luxurious  foliage  high  towards  the  heavens, 


354  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

making  earth  glorious  with  their  beauty.  .  .  .  Step  by  step  through  every 
variety  of  change  that  time  can  bring,  even  while  they  bloomed  and  flour- 
ished, their  present  destiny  was  evolving,  and  now  these  dead  flowers  are 
warming  a  creature  of  yesterday  and  lighting  my  room  with  the  sunshine  of  a 
forgotten  age.  I  use  no  poetic  license  in  saying  the  sunshine  of  long  ago ; 
for  in  all  truth  it  is  the  light  and  heat  of  the  days  when  the  coal  forests 
flourished  which  comes  to  me  now  when  these  relics  are  burning. 

The  country  was  Mr.  Shaler's  natural  realm.  At  times  it  was 
difficult  for  those  about  him  to  realize  what  such  a  retreat  meant 
to  him;  but  in  the  fuller  knowledge  that  perspective  gives  it 
is  easy  to  see  that  it  was  necessary  in  order  to  keep  his  soul 
resilient  beneath  the  load  of  the  commonplace  that  found  its 
way  even  into  the  academic  world ;  it  was  the  need  to  escape 
from  the  outer  aspect  that  meets  the  eye  to  the  inner  light  of 
the  spirit,  and  nowhere  else  were  conditions  so  favorable  for  the 
serene  life  of  mind  and  spirit.  It  was  thought  by  many  that  the 
days  must  pass  dully  in  a  region  so  sparsely  peopled,  but  he  was 
not  of  the  dull-witted  kind  who  suffer  from  quiet  and  demand 
bustle  as  a  substitute  for  thought.  It  was  impossible  for  one  to 
be  bored  who  sought,  as  he  did,  an  explanation  of  the  world 
about  him.  The  power  and  activity  of  his  mind  left  little  leisure 
for  ennui.  With  the  good  earth  beneath  his  feet  and  the  light 
of  heaven  above,  the  ceaseless  pulsing  of  the  sea  and  the  ancient 
rocks  to  tell  their  story,  he  found  himself  elated.  In  truth,  he 
was  never  lonely  in  company  with  his  great  friend  and  goddess, 
Nature.  And  yet  he  did  not  go  out  to  her  with  the  solemnity 
of  "a  dedicated  spirit."  He  sought  by  the  active  use  of  his 
intelligence  to  interpret  her  truly  and  lovingly;  but  he  never 
yielded  to  the  mawkish  sentimentality  that  exalts  grass  and 
stones  and  trees  at  the  expense  of  the  human  interest. 

But  even  in  the  remote  place  he  had  chosen  for  his  home  there 
was  always  something  going  on  to  appeal  to  his  imagination. 
Vineyard  Sound  itself,  which  he  looked  upon  from  his  window, 
was  full  of  happenings  —  all  kinds  of  craft,  from  the  noisy  little 
motorboats  in  which  fishermen  go  to  and  from  their  nets;  the 


LOVE  OF  THE  LANDSCAPE  355 

great  six-masted  schooners  with  their  sawlike  sky  lines;  the 
tugs  followed  by  their  chain  of  sluggish  coal  barges;  and  the 
fast-sailing  yachts  that  skim  the  water  at  stated  seasons,  all 
gave  a  far-off  animation  that  called  for  no  expenditure  of  emo- 
tion, yet  at  the  same  time  kept  the  outgoing  thought  busily 
travelling  from  the  Azores  to  the  coal-pits  of  Pennsylvania. 

Not  content  with  the  purely  scientific  aspect  of  nature,  — 
there  was  hardly  any  such  aspect  for  one  whose  province  it  was 
to  humanize  a  scientific  fact  as  soon  as  he  grasped  it,  —  he  ap- 
propriated the  beauty  of  the  landscape  superimposed  upon  the 
skeleton  of  geological  history,  making  it  a  part  of  his  every-day 
life.  It  was  his  habit  to  experiment  as  to  the  best  way  of  gain- 
ing a  sense  of  the  beauty  and  significance  of  any  scene  with 
which  he  was  brought  into  intimate  contact.  He  believed  that 
"he  who  would  become  a  lover  of  the  landscape  must  accustom 
himself  to  seek  it  alone,  and  must  learn  to  know  that  his  mere 
presence  at  its  doors  will  not  make  him  free  to  its  treasures." 
As  a  result  of  experiment  he  further  became  convinced  that 
knowledge  may  vastly  enhance  the  intensity  of  aesthetic  im- 
pressions. "The  evidence  of  the  slow  changes  which  have 
brought  the  bit  of  earth  to  its  existing  form,  which  have  shaped 
the  face  which  it  turns  to  the  eyes  of  man,  has  to  be  gained," 
he  says,  "by  deliberate  inquiry,  so  that  the  reading  is  that  of  a 
great  volume  in  its  difficulty  and  in  the  time  it  demands."  He 
thought  much  upon  this  subject,  lectured  on  it  to  the  students 
in  the  Architectural  School,  and  left  many  pages  of  unpub- 
lished material  relating  to  it.  Able  himself  to  bring  an  informed 
intelligence  to  the  observation  of  the  ocean,  hills,  and  plains, 
his  enjoyment  of  their  beauty  was  proportionally  keen.  Grand- 
eur of  scenery,  however,  never  took  strong  hold  upon  him.  It 
was  the  gentler  scenes,  linked  with  human  interest,  that  pleased 
him  most  —  the  places  where  homes  had  been  or  might  be,  or 
where  great  deeds  had  been  enacted.  "There  are,"  he  says, 
"  many  landscapes  in  the  unhistoric  wildernesses  endowed  with 
a  far  greater  share  of  purely  natural  beauty  than  that  of  the 


356     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

Val  d'Arno  or  the  Plain  of  Marathon.  It  is  the  light  from  the 
past  which  gives  these  scenes  their  abiding  dignity;  but  this 
light  does  not  shine  forth  from  the  pages  of  the  guide-book ;  it 
must  come  from  the  ancient  wealth  of  the  mind."  The  low- 
lying  hills  and  subtle  gradation  of  outline  on  Martha's  Vineyard 
were  a  perpetual  delight  to  him  and  furnished  material  for  study 
in  the  values  of  form  and  color.  He  somewhere  says,  "  If  a  moun- 
tain or  hill  goes  about  it  aright,  it  can  get  an  amazing  dignity 
without  assaulting  the  heavens  in  its  efforts."  In  one  of  his 
note-books  he  writes,  "No  other  landscape  known  to  me  has 
so  many  contrasted  slopes  in  an  equal  amount  of  profile;  the 
result  is  the  impression  of  height  and  dignity  totally  dispro- 
portioned  to  the  actual  altitudes :  nowhere  else  in  this  country 
do  I  know  anything  like  the  variety  of  scenic  effect  that  is  ex- 
hibited in  this  hundred  or  so  square  miles." 

Furthermore  he  discovered  that,  owing  to  the  beneficent  in- 
fluence of  the  Gulf  Stream,  there  was  in  southeast  Massachu- 
setts a  seasonal  condition  akin  to  the  Old  World  spring,  and 
that  people  there  were  justified  in  accepting  the  English  tradi- 
tion, embodied  in  verse  and  prose,  concerning  the  vernal  time 
of  the  year.  He  notes  the  fact  that  on  the  island  "  spring  begins 
in  February,  —  the  ferns  awakening  to  the  uplifting  noonday 
sun  within  a  month  of  the  winter  solstice.  April  the  first  always 
brings  the  daffodils;  on  May  15th,  however,  the  life  is  at  least 
a  fortnight  behind  that  of  Cambridge.  'Seven  Gates'  has  a  real 
European  spring  which  is  characteristically  long,  with  arrests 
which  seem  retardations." 

Mr.  Shaler  might  have  been  a  good  farmer,  — for  he  was  well 
acquainted  with  all  the  processes,  —  had  he  undertaken  to 
supervise  details.  When,  however,  he  visited  his  farm,  he  was 
generally  weary  of  practical  considerations  and  longed  to  es- 
cape from  the  application  of  theories  as  well  as  from  the  burden 
of  administration.  The  intense  nature  of  his  college  work  en- 
titled him  to  a  free  play  of  mind  untrammelled  by  the  need  of 
looking  too  closely  to  the  execution  of  ideas.  He  therefore  called 


MR.  SHALER  ON  HIS   FARM 


AS  A  FARMER  357 

his  farm  "the  playground  of  his  old  age,"  and  laid  by  a  good 
deal  of  youthful  feeling  and  the  results  of  varied  reflection  which 
he  proposed  to  make  use  of  as  a  pastime  when  he  had  labored 
long  enough  in  prescribed  ways.  The  writing  he  had  in  mind 
would  have  filled  up  his  leisure  for  the  next  ten  years. 

The  danger  of  too  much  work  of  this  kind  was  not  overlooked 
by  his  friends.  The  letter  given  below  from  his  old  cousin  Elias 
Stilwell  shows  his  knowledge  of  his  kinsman.  In  order  to  make 
his  advice  acceptable  while  suggesting  that  he  suppress  his 
energy  in  one  direction,  he  diplomatically  unfolds  a  scheme  for 
its  outlet  in  another  and,  as  he  thinks,  more  wholesome  field. 

.  .  .  And  you  are  going  to  your  farm  to  work?  I  don't  like  it!  You  should 
go  to  reflect,  and  not  to  think.  Thinking  is  only  preparing  rough,  crude  work 
for  sale.  Reflection  gives  a  polished,  enduring  finish  that  will  preserve  the 
thought  for  centuries  if  well  done.  You  are  capable  of  it.  You  are  doing  too 
much.  Don't  wear  out  the  machine!  Go  to  your  farm.  Don't  touch  pen  to 
paper.  Spend  the  whole  day  in  walking  and  breathing  pure  fresh  air.  ...  I 
wish  you  would  send  out  West  to  some  of  our  cavalry  officers  and  obtain 
a  few  select  mares  from  those  wonderful  war-horses  the  plain  Indians  use  in 
battle.  I  would  cross  them  with  the  fine  Arab  stallions  General  Grant 
brought  home.  You  could  originate  the  finest  cavalry  horses  in  the  world. 
They  could  carry  weight,  require  but  little  food,  and  have  the  staying  quality 
of  a  sea-bird.  I  can  procure  here  a  fine  pair  of  tame  young  moose,  male  and 
female.  It  has  been  thought  they  might  be  cultivated  for  meat  production. 

There  was,  nevertheless,  one  practical  side  of  farming  to 
which  Mr.  Shaler  devoted  himself  assiduously,  and  that  was 
the  extirpation  of  weeds,  especially  the  thistle,  which  genera- 
tions of  poor  tillers  of  the  soil  had  allowed  to  infest  the  fields. 
This  business  of  rooting  out  thistles  was  not  only  a  practical 
measure  for  releasing  the  land  from  a  pest,  but  with  him  it  grew 
to  be  a  recreation.  In  the  course  of  time  the  work  becoming 
purely  mechanical,  his  mind  was  left  free  to  follow  its  imagina- 
tive way.  He  found  so  much  satisfaction  in  his  efforts  to  exter- 
minate these  weeds  that  he  almost  ceased  to  regard  them  as 
enemies  or  himself  as  an  avenger.  Their  wide  distribution  led 
him  on  to  the  breezy  hilltops,  along  the  rocky  slopes  of  his  so- 


358     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

called  "private  moraine,"  and  on  the  still  farther  uplands.  On 
these  high  places,  in  the  vales  and  out-of-the-way  nooks,  he 
found  balm  for  his  nerves  and  wisdom  for  his  writings,  as  well 
as  the  stillness  his  soul  craved. 

Under  his  leadership  the  pursuit  of  the  thistle  became  a  family 
occupation  and  each  mind  was  fertile  in  warlike  invention.  It 
was  variously  suggested  that  the  flower  be  touched  with  some 
blighting  poison ;  the  plant  be  mowed  and  burned.  Again  there 
were  those  who  waited,  to  use  Mr.  Shaler's  own  phrase,  "for  a 
critical  point"  in  the  life  of  the  thistle  —  the  period  in  which 
a  new  mode  of  action  is  suddenly  introduced  that  will  trans- 
form it  from  a  selfish  cumberer  of  the  soil  into  a  life-sustaining 
herb.  The  sight  of  one  of  these  nuisances  always  provoked  a 
warm  discussion.  It  was  claimed  that  one  had  but  to  cut  down 
a  full-grown  specimen  to  evoke  a  circle  of  confident  and  lively 
little  ones  equally  voracious  for  earth,  air,  and  sun.  As  evi- 
dence of  their  possible  subjugation,  Mr.  Shaler  pointed  to  one 
hill  where  with  his  own  hands  he  had  entirely  routed  them, 
though  they  had  strewn  the  ground  as  thick  as  autumn  leaves. 
In  most  places,  however,  they  were  simply  held  back,  the  will 
to  live  baffling  the  will  to  destroy.  The  teaching  value  of  the 
thistle  in  patience  became  immense;  its  obstinate  effort  to  per- 
petuate itself  the  theme  of  acrid  criticism.  In  love  with  all 
nature,  Mr.  Shaler  was  opposed  to  this  hostile  attitude ;  it  was 
well  to  destroy  them,  he  thought,  but  not  well  to  harbor 
malice  against  them;  they  were,  he  claimed,  expert  runners  in 
the  race  of  life  and  their  monumental  effort  to  propagate  them- 
selves was  worthy  of  admiration.  It  was  thus  that  he  looked 
off  upon  the  universe  with  a  sympathetic  mind. 

When  friends,  wishing  to  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  his  company, 
would  arm  themselves  with  hoes  and  offer  to  go  with  him  on  his 
walks,  the  suggestion  was  greeted  with  a  twitch  of  the  shoulder 
and  a  peculiar  light  in  his  eyes,  and  forthwith  he  would  start 
off  setting  a  pace  which  he  felt  sure  few  could  follow ;  and  know- 
ing as  he  did  every  sheep-path  that  led  through  swamps, 


CONVERSATION  AT  SEVEN  GATES  359 

thickets,  and  woods,  he  would  soon  be  out  of  sight  and  hearing. 
The  fact  was,  he  wished  to  be  alone  and  to  follow  his  own  train 
of  thought  uninterrupted  by  what  he  called  chatter  in  contra- 
distinction to  good  talk.  Indeed  what  was  said  of  another  might 
be  said  of  him :  his  library  was  in  the  house,  but  his  study  was  out 
of  doors.  He  preferred  a  companion  who  had  nothing  to  say, 
or,  if  he  had,  would  keep  from  saying  it.  He  liked  the  one  who 
was  oftenest  with  him  to  remain  within  sight  and  speaking  dis- 
tance, but  to  guard  the  peace  until  on  the  way  home.  The  time 
for  talking  was  at  table,  or  in  the  evening  just  after  supper  while 
he  was  smoking  his  long-stemmed  pipe,  which  he  filled  and 
lighted  often  as  a  sort  of  punctuation  to  the  flow  of  speech ;  at 
these  times  he  delighted  to  expend  himself  in  conversation. 
Not  infrequently  there  were  regular  conversational  orgies,  when 
for  instance  Professor  Royce,  Dr.  James,  or  other  congenial  men 
would  come  to  visit  him ;  then  these  inspiring  and  indefatigable 
talkers  would  only  cease  with  physical  exhaustion,  for  original 
ideas  in  that  circle  never  were  lacking.  These  occasions  could 
not  be  said  to  be  brilliant  tournaments  where  men  disported 
themselves  for  display,  but  each  spoke  from  the  abundance  of 
his  fertile  mind  to  convince,  to  learn,  or  bring  to  light  the 
elusive  fact.  It  was  a  dead  heat  with  frequent  returns  to  the 
unsolved  problem.  Talks  like  these,  and  others  in  the  library  at 
Cambridge,  with  many  men  of  many  minds  for  interlocutors, 
would  have  made  the  services  of  a  shorthand  writer  a  desirable 
thing. 

Some  of  Mr.  Shaler's  best  thinking  was  done  on  his  place  at 
the  Vineyard.  Here,  free  from  the  endless  interruptions  of  his 
official  life,  he  could  carry  on  a  connected  train  of  thought  with- 
out the  waste  of  energy  that  rallying  the  mind  for  fresh  assault 
brings.  When  he  wanted  a  change  he  would  turn  from  prose  to 
poetry,  in  this  way  practising  a  sort  of  mental  rotation  of  crops. 
To  shed  the  practical  work  at  Cambridge  and  enter  the  field  of 
speculative  thought,  or  the  stirring  world  of  Elizabeth's  time, 
was  leaving  drudgery  and  soaring  into  the  upper  spaces.  It  was 


360  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

like  the  view  from  his  study  window,  the  bare  hills  standing 
aloof  from  the  green  fields.  The  act  of  writing  was  in  itself 
a  soothing  occupation,  and  it  is  for  this  reason  doubtless  that 
one  finds  in  his  books  a  large  and  stately  way  of  putting  things 
rather  than  the  dash  and  verve  one  remembers  in  his  talk  and 
actions. 

No  doubt  his  sojourns  in  the  country  were  a  solace  and  a 
moral  profit.  The  impulse  which  nature  gave  him  towards  the 
large  and  noble  aspect  of  creation  was  strengthened  by  the  op- 
portunity for  peaceful  contemplation.  The  serener  air  restored 
the  equilibrium  of  character  that  was  sometimes  perturbed  in 
the  ardent  pursuit  of  the  projects  he  had  most  at  heart.  Re- 
moved from  the  intenser  struggle,  he  was  able  to  sever  the  es- 
sential and  permanent  from  what  was  accidental  and  transient; 
his  state  of  mind  thus  became  calmer,  and  his  generosity  of 
thought  and  deed,  his  largeness  of  heart  and  tenderness,  in  a 
more  pronounced  way  came  to  the  surface.  Always  sensitive 
to  the  genial  and  gracious  side  of  social  intercourse,  he  sought 
occasions  for  the  practice  of  a  still  finer  courtesy  in  the  minor 
as  well  as  the  more  important  acts  of  life.  He  could  not  pass 
through  a  field  without  gathering  a  bunch  of  wild  roses  for  those 
at  home,  and  every  morning  at  each  breakfast  plate  he  would 
place  the  flower  of  the  season  which  he  plucked  with  the  dew 
upon  it.  Often  in  his  walks  he  would  go  out  of  his  way  to  shake 
hands  with  a  lonely  old  man  whose  wandering  days  were  over. 
It  may  be  that  it  was  amid  the  reposeful  scenes  by  which  he  was 
surrounded,  and  in  the  silent  places  he  sought,  that  he  made  his 
conquests  in  the  ample  spaces  of  his  soul,  and  fitted  himself 
more  completely  to  become  the  free  champion  of  all  that  was 
noble. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE   TEACHER 

1864-1905 

DIFFICULT  as  it  is  to  select  the  talent  over  and  above  all  others 
for  which  Mr.  Shaler  was  preeminent,  one  is  nevertheless  forced 
to  fall  back  upon  his  teaching  as  the  central  point  of  his  intel- 
lectual achievement,  the  one  which  in  a  large  way,  though  lack- 
ing a  lasting  habitation,  was  productive  of  the  greatest  results. 
Although  the  effects  of  teaching  are  elusive,  its  subtle  influence 
not  to  be  permanently  transmitted  or  set  down  in  definitions, 
yet  in  the  words  and  deeds  of  some  seven  thousand  men,  forty 
classes,  there  is  abounding  testimony  to  the  effectiveness  and 
uplifting  quality  of  his  work  in  that  field.  As  early  as  1864  he 
was  assistant  and  lecturer  in  what  is  now  known  as  the  Agassiz 
Museum.  In  1869,  at  the  age  of -twenty-eight,  he  was  made  full 
professor  of  paleontology  (his  title  eventually  changed  to  pro- 
fessor of  geology),  and  he  continued  to  lecture  with  few  inter- 
ruptions until  the  end.  For  nearly  forty  years  he  might  have 
been  seen  walking  at  a  swinging  gait  and  with  unfailing  regu- 
larity across  the  College  Yard  to  and  from  his  lectures. 

Mr.  Shaler  chose  the  work  of  the  teacher  without  other  com- 
pulsion than  that  which  came  from  within ;  indeed  when  a  boy 
he  startled  some  of  his  college  associates  with  what  seemed  at 
the  time  the  bold  assertion  that  he  meant  to  become  a  Harvard 
professor.  His  father  and  others  of  his  immediate  circle  were 
disappointed  at  his  choice.  Without  prescience  of  the  large  and 
noble  part  he  was  to  play  in  the  role  of  a  university  professor, 
it  was  thought  that  his  talents  required  a  wider  scope :  law  and 
politics  were  the  accepted  outlets  for  a  man  of  his  parts  in  his 
region  of  the  country. 


362  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

For  this  reason  but  little  elation  was  felt  when  he  finally  de- 
cided to  dedicate  his  life  to  a  laborious  and  modest  career,  and 
to  take  up  his  permanent  abode  beyond  the  borders  of  his  own 
state.  The  great  compensation,  however,  was  looked  for  in  the 
restoration  of  his  shattered  health.  On  his  part,  having  volun- 
tarily sought  New  England  he  cast  in  his  lot  with  her ;  she  gave 
him  opportunities  that  he  might  not  otherwise  have  had,  and 
he  gave  her  the  best  and  unstinted  services  of  his  varied  talents. 
Indeed,  he  embraced  the  new  conditions  in  a  whole-hearted  way, 
and  if  the  old  and  new  civilizations  did  not  always  mingle,  they 
lived  amicably  together :  only  as  life  neared  its  close  there  was 
a  strange  longing  for  the  one  he  knew  first.   Against  the  aca- 
demic environment,  against  what  was  rigid,  formal,  and  luke- 
warm wherever  these  qualities  found  a  home,  he  opposed  the 
land  of  passionate  likings,  unchastened  aversions,  and  ancient 
loyalties,  a  land  where  all  the  elements  of  life  mingled  pell-mell 
and  jostled  one  another  with  old-time  Shakespearian  freedom. 
And  because  of  this  full  life  which  had  so  deeply  entered  into  his 
being  he  must  always  have  seemed  to  his  comrades  to  have  an 
exotic  strain  in  his  blood.  Yet,  this  unappeased  nostalgia,  this 
reaching  out  for  the  other  life,  was  more  or  less  in  opposition 
to  his  better  judgment,  for  he  well  knew  that  he  needed  for  the 
exercise  of  his  best  powers  full  swing  in  intellectual  centres. 

Even  those  who  knew  the  conditions  of  his  heritage  some- 
times wondered  at  the  evolution  of  so  rich  a  personality ;  ques- 
tioned what  the  preexistent  souls  were  like  that  started  on  its 
way  a  nature  having  the  sensitiveness  of  the  poet  and  the  vigor 
of  the  man  of  action.  How  he  came  by  this  and  that  spiritual 
and  intellectual  quality  only  those  who  knew  the  community 
in  which  he  lived  could  in  any  measure  grasp ;  to  the  outsider 
explanation  is  impossible,  nor  would  the  present  transformed 
society  furnish  a  clew.  One  feature  of  his  character,  loyalty  to 
persons  and  ideas,  may  in  a  way  be  laid  to  the  door  of  slavery, 
for  it  was  an  institution  immense  in  its  force  to  unite  and  bind 
together  members  of  the  ruling  class. 


THE  SOCIAL  LIFE  OF  CAMBRIDGE  363 

The  Cambridge  of  the  seventies  was  a  very  different  place  fromj 
the  cosmopolitan  Cambridge  of  the  twentieth  century.  Socially,  it 
was  a  compact  and  solid  little  community,  skeptical  of  strangers 
and  inclined  to  impose  a  period  of  probation  more  or  less  pro- 
longed upon  possible  candidates  for  its  favors.  So  far  as  the 
newcomer  was  concerned,  if  he  happened  to  be  accustomed  to 
a  certain  military  and  social  esprit  de  corps,  there  was  little  be- 
sides a  sense  of  duty,  a  contract  to  be  fulfilled,  to  bind  him  to 
the  College.  Outwardly,  there  were  no  close  friendships  among 
the  younger  men,  no  friendly  "College  teas"  for  the  women. 
Notwithstanding  much  kindliness,  nobody  apparently  felt  him- 
self in  any  way  responsible  for  anybody  else.  Under  these  cir- 
cumstances it  was  difficult  to  believe  that  precious  friendships 
were  to  crown  the  coming  years.  It  may  be  that  this  sense  of 
social  sterility  —  whether  well  founded  or  not,  for  one  not  to 
the  manner  born  is  not  always  a  sure  judge  —  prompted  Mr. 
Shaler  when,  thanks  to  his  natural  gifts,  he  had  made  a  place 
for  himself,  to  endeavor  to  render  Harvard  more  hospitable  to 
the  stranger  within  her  gates;  for  to  the  stranger,  as  he  well 
knew,  warmth  of  welcome  is  the  sum  of  all  social  virtues. 

He  himself  did  not  lack  opportunities  for  meeting  interesting 
men.  In  those  early  days  at  one  dinner  in  particular  at  Agassiz's, 
among  the  guests,  it  is  possible  to  recall  the  names  of  Emerson, 
Lowell,  Longfellow,  Holmes,  Howells,  and  Bret  Harte,  besides 
dimmer  lights.  While  the  meal  was  in  progress  the  professor 
descended  to  his  wine  cellar  and  brought  up  and  uncorked  a 
cobweb-shrouded  bottle  which  proved  to  be  a  precious,  mirth- 
provoking  bottle  of  sunshine.  On  this  occasion  the  number  of 
wine  glasses  at  each  plate  was  to  some  of  the  guests  a  source  of 
embarrassment.  When  the  maid  came  round  with  the  wine  my 
neighbor  confidentially  asked  which  glass  he  should  present.  I 
avowed  a  certain  traditional  knowledge  of  port  wine,  native 
catawba,  and  Bourbon  whiskey,  but  ignorance  of  Swiss  vintages* 
"Then,"  said  he,  with  a  merry  twinkle  in  his  eyes,  "you  watch 
Mr.  Longfellow  and  I'll  watch  Mr.  Lowell  and  we'll  see  what 


364  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

they  do."  In  those  days  there  were  no  despotic  butlers,  in  Cam- 
bridge at  least,  to  frustrate  the  somewhat  dangerous  initiative 
of  most  Americans  in  the  matter  of  beverages. 

So  far  as  the  College  was  concerned,  as  one  looks  back  upon 
it,  its  educational  opportunities  seemed  to  run  in  a  mere  rill,  com- 
pared with  the  broad  stream  of  culture  set  in  motion  by  Presi- 
dent Eliot,  into  which  all  the  tributaries  of  learning  now  flow. 
Mr.  Shaler's  connection  with  the  College  was  contemporaneous 
with  its  most  expansive  period.  That  he  helped  in  a  general  way 
to  enlarge  its  intellectual  and  spiritual  boundaries  there  can  be 
no  doubt,  and  it  is  certain  that  in  the  departments  with  which 
he  was  most  intimately  connected  he  vivified  and  uplifted  them. 
His  personality  filled  a  void  in  the  University,  and  it  has  been 
said  that  through  him  "the  missing  virtue  of  sympathy  for  the 
student  forced  itself  in."  Also  by  means  of  his  enthusiastic 
efforts  greater  sympathy  for  the  natural  history  side  of  instruc- 
tion was  gradually  won.  For  many  years  the  upholders  of  the 
scientific  spirit  had  to  fight  every  mile  of  the  march  toward 
acceptance.  A  stream  of  cold  water,  directed  by  the  purely 
academic  element,  played  upon  nearly  all  of  his  attempts  to  de- 
velop and  enlarge  the  scope  of  scientific  teaching  as  well  as  to 
make  its  approaches  possible  for  any  but  the  foreordained.  With 
the  aid  of  his  associates,  a  body  of  able  men  who  in  some  instances 
were  his  former  pupils,  he  fought  his  fight  persistently,  passion- 
ately, and  so  successfully  that  at  length  the  value  of  the  natural 
history  courses  met  with  universal  recognition. 

If  Mr.  Shaler  was  a  great  teacher  it  was  not  due  merely  to  the 
accident  of  natural  gifts.  His  success  was  also  the  outcome  of 
deep  meditation,  and  a  deliberate  taking  account  of  the  re- 
quirements of  the  vocation.  In  a  paper  entitled  "School  Vaca- 
tions," he  says:  "Although  the  needs  of  the  pupil  control  the 
duration  of  our  school  terms,  the  necessities  of  the  teacher's 
work  are  also  of  a  nature  to  demand  much  in  the  way  of  refresh- 
ment. The  true  teacher,  he  who  goes  forth  to  his  pupils,  who 
enters  into  their  spirit  so  that  he  conceives  their  difficulties  and 


THE  TEACHER'S  VOCATION  365 

helps  them  from  near  by,  is  called  upon  for  duties  which  to  the 
inexperienced  appear  simple  and  easily  performed,  but  are  in- 
deed of  a  perplexing  and  exhausting  nature.  All  sympathetic 
action  is  taxing  to  the  strength  of  men.  When  we  go  forth  to 
another,  making  his  life  our  own,  we  attain  our  end  by  ways  of 
exceeding  difficulty,  by  paths  which  are  not  beaten,  which  can 
only  be  travelled  by  patient  ingenuity.  The  teacher  must  clearly 
understand  the  nature  of  his  pupil.  He  attains  his  end,  if  he 
wins  it  at  all,  by  vigilant  and  unceasing  attention  to  every  sign 
which  may  guide  his  endeavors.  No  guide  who  seeks  to  bring 
his  charge  up  the  most  difficult  mountain  need  be  so  watchful 
of  his  actions  as  the  teacher.  He  gives  away  his  life  to  perform 
his  task  if  he  be  born  to  his  calling.  None  but  those  who  have 
done  the  teacher's  work  know  the  cost  of  this  free  giving  of  the 
spirit.  It  has  fallen  to  me  to  do  many  things,  but  none  seem 
to  take  away  so  much  from  my  share  of  vitality  as  the  struggle 
to  gain  a  hold  on  the  mind  of  some  youth  who,  by  nature  re- 
mote from  human  ways,  must  be  firmly  grasped  before  he  can 
be  helped." 

Mr.  Shaler's  lecture-notes,  of  which  there  are  hundreds  ex- 
tant, although  the  merest  outlines  of  subjects,  are  illuminating 
as  to  the  variety  of  topics  and  the  philosophical  and  universal 
way  in  which  they  are  treated.  He  seems  never  to  have  been 
satisfied  with  the  mere  statement  of  a  fact,  he  must  also  make 
the  interpretation.  By  way  of  illustrating  his  general  trend  of 
thought,  a  few  extracts  from  his  notes  are  here  given.  The  first 
at  hand  have  the  following  headings :  "  Importance  of  Historic 
Sense,"  "Importance  of  Conception  of  Energy  in  Operation/' 
"  Importance  of  Understanding  the  Relation  of  Earth  to  Man," 
"  Importance  of  the  Sense  of  Beauty."  Others  read  as  follows : — 

Lecture  on  the  Growth  of  the  Study  of  Natural  History :  Importance  of  a 
study  of  the  growth  of  a  science.  Dependence  of  the  growth  of  a  science  upon 
the  way  the  phenomena  are  exhibited.  Dependence  upon  the  mental  char- 
acters of  the  races.  Close  likeness  of  the  Greek  scientific  spirit  to  our  own, 
utter  diversity  of  Hebrew.  Supernatural  spirit  opposed  essentially  to  the 


366     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

investigative.  Absence  of  the  supernatural  spirit  among  the  Greeks — the 
cause  of  their  scientific  advance.  Utter  want  of  scientific  spirit  among  the 
Semitic  peoples.  With  all  the  wisdom  of  the  Bible  there  is  no  trace  of  scien- 
tific inquiry  —  not  so  among  the  Vedas,  etc.,  etc. 

Kepler's  view  truer  than  that  of  him  who  thinks  he  is  philosophical  when 
he  excludes  all  idea  of  plan  from  his  conception  of  the  actions  which  have 
made  the  earth  what  it  is.  The  imagination  and  the  religious  instincts  have 
their  place  in  the  investigation  of  nature ;  they  give  the  light  and  show  the 
way  to  those  fields  where  the  harvest  is  gathered  with  the  microscope  and 
the  telescope.  He  who  begins  an  investigation  by  excluding  his  imagination 
and  his  religiosity  begins  a  difficult  search  by  shutting  out  the  light.  He  will- 
ingly gropes  in  the  dark  with  the  idea  that  he  is  more  likely  to  grasp  the 
truth  by  chance  than  by  guidance.  I  do  not  advocate  the  use  of  imagination 
alone  or  the  use  of  the  religious  impulse  alone;  I  would  have  the  whole 
man  given  to  an  investigation.  We  are  intellectually  argus-eyed ;  what  folly, 
then,  to  try  to  see  by  shutting  all  the  avenues  of  seeing  but  one !  The  world 
is  vast  enough  to  require  the  aid  of  every  faculty  with  which  we  are  blessed 
if  we  would  read  its  riddles. 

His  tendency  as  a  lecturer  has  been  briefly  summed  up  in  the 
following  words :  — 

It  was  largely  from  the  point  of  unity  and  continuity  that  he  revealed 
the  order  of  nature  to  the  thousands  of  students  who  attended  his  lectures 
these  many  years;  the  interaction  of  the  sun,  winds,  oceans,  lands,  and  life 
being  the  main  theme  in  his  presentation  of  geology,  while  his  treatment  of 
paleontology  was  directed  to  describing  the  ancient  forms  of  life,  not  merely 
for  themselves  but  as  the  ancestors  of  the  present  inhabitants  of  the  earth. 
He  never  limited  his  attention  closely  to  one  line  of  inquiry,  but  was  always 
keenly  interested  in  a  wide  variety  of  natural  and  human  phenomena ;  and 
one  sign  of  this  was  the  manner  in  which  he  would  consult  his  colleagues  on 
unexpected  topics.  He  was  especially  fond  of  tracing  the  connections  which 
bind  together  the  various  regions  of  knowledge,  showing  at  once  the  natural- 
ist's love  of  detail  and  the  philosopher's  fondness  for  large  problems.1 

As  a  teacher  it  was  Mr.  Shaler's  good  fortune  to  inspire  as 
well  as  to  instruct,  and  intellectual  contact  with  him  seemed 
to  increase  a  man's  capacity  for  knowing  a  fine  thing  whenever 

i  Minute  on  the  Life  and  Services  of  Nathaniel  Southgate  Shaler,  Harvard  University 
Qazette. 


HIS  QUALITIES  AS  A  TEACHER  367 

it  might  present  itself.  There  may  have  been  others  who  stated 
a  scientific  fact  as  well,  but  there  were  few  of  his  time  who  gave 
so  wide  an  application  or  humanized  as  he  did  the  subjects  of 
his  instruction.  "Under  Professor  Shaler,"  says  one  of  his  col- 
leagues, "the  student  gained  a  kindling  vision  of  pretty  much 
all  the  natural  world  " ;  and  one  of  his  old  students  writes  in 
The  World's  Work  :  — 

The  dramatic  points  of  his  subjects  were  always  brought  out  in  his  lectures 
with  great  relish.  To  have  heard  him  describe  the  movements  of  the  ice-cap 
over  our  continent,  you  would  have  thought  he  had  been  there,  observing 
from  a  mountain-peak :  and,  when  he  wound  up  with  the  fact  that  he  him- 
self owned  "a  patch  of  glebe  on  the  very  moraine  piled  up  by  the  edge  of 
that  creeping  ice-sheet,"  you  felt  that  the  Creator  had  probably  parceled  it 
out  to  him  as  his  rightful  share  in  the  great  land  improvement. 

Another  of  his  former  pupils,  now  a  well-known  teacher, 
sets  forth  in  the  Journal  of  Geography  his  impressions  of  the 
teacher :  — 

As  youths,  students  were  inspired  by  his  wonderful  exposition  in  the 
class-room,  and  by  his  deep  love  for  all  that  was  noble  and  pure;  as  the 
years  went  on  they  came  to  love  him  because  of  his  breadth  of  sympathy, 
his  versatility,  and  his  nobleness,  which  could  not  be  appreciated  in  early 
acquaintance  because  their  knowledge  was  not  deep  enough.  Those  who 
knew  him  longest  loved  him  because  of  all  these  qualities  and  many  others 
that  became  deeper  and  richer  as  the  years  advanced.  .  .  .  The  large  major- 
ity of  students  went  forth  from  his  classes  broader  in  their  mental  vision, 
more  in  sympathy  with  Nature,  more  keen  to  analyze  the  problems  of  sci- 
ence presented  to  them  daily,  and  with  a  deep  conviction  that  they  had 
gained  a  mental  altitude  that  gave  them  a  more  human  outlook  on  the 
world.  Professor  Shaler  was  a  great  teacher  because  he  was  primarily  a 
broad-minded,  big-hearted  man,  vigorous  of  speech,  keen  of  mind,  quick 
of  action,  versatile  almost  beyond  belief,  always  interested  in  everything 
about  him  however  remote  or  seemingly  trivial.  He  sacrificed  his  strength 
in  every  way  in  the  service  of  his  fellows,  but  his  influence  will  go  on  through 
the  generations,  by  his  books  and  writings,  but  more  especially  by  the  teach- 
ings of  those  he  taught  to  teach  by  his  example. 

The  mere  mention  of  the  course  originally  called  Natural 
History  Five,  and  subsequently  Geology  Four,  recalls  to  hun- 


368  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

dreds  of  men  —  those  of  special  scientific  leaning  and  the  mere 
seeker  after  entertainment  —  hours  delightfully  spent,  listening 
to  the  wonderful  tale  of  the  world's  creation.  Indeed,  there  are 
many  who  hark  back  to  those  lectures  in  the  way  men  do  to 
the  fairy  stories  of  their  childhood ;  others,  to  whom  nature  as 
yet  had  hardly  been  discovered,  found  them  the  open  door  to  a 
kingdom  of  light,  to  a  magnificent  and  immeasurable  universe. 
His  teaching  was  not  confined  to  the  lecture-room.  The 
geological  excursions  which  he  organized,  generally  known  as 
"Professor  Shaler 's  Field  Days,"  were  notable  occasions.  A 
long  line  of  motley-looking  students,  in  costumes  more  or  less 
complete,  embellished  by  collars  and  cravats  according  to  the 
morning  hour  when  the  train  had  to  be  caught,  would  be  seen 
moving  along  the  streets,  over  hills  and  dales,  through  swamps 
and  across  rivers,  following  their  leader.  These  excursions  were 
usually  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  Boston,  though  some- 
times Mr.  Shaler  was  requested  to  extend  his  tramp  to  other 
districts.  The  Boston  Daily  Advertiser's  report  of  one  of  these 
expeditions  runs  as  follows :  — 

On  leaving  the  cars  at  Quincy  the  party  walked  to  the  top  of  the  high 
hill  just  west  of  the  station.  Here  attention  was  called  to  the  widespread 
view  of  sea  and  shore,  and  to  the  fine  mountainlike  scenery  of  the  Blue 
Hills.  "They  are  called  hills,"  said  Mr.  Shaler,  "but  in  their  day  they 
formed  a  part  of  a  lofty  mountain-range  extending  from  Sharon  past  Boston 
to  Saugus.  These  now  denuded  and  degraded  mountains,  presenting  but  a 
trace  of  their  former  grandeur,  are  very  interesting  to  the  geologist.  They 
have  not  received  the  attention  from  scientific  men  that  they  deserve.  ..." 
Mr.  Shaler  then  remarked  that  he  had  obtained  more  information  concern- 
ing their  history  and  structure  from  a  well-known  Boston  lady  [Miss  Eliza 
Quincy]  than  from  scientific  works.  .  .  .  Gradually  the  character  of 
the  rocks,  and  the  wild,  picturesque  scenery  they  made,  changed,  till  at 
last,  on  the  shore  of  Weymouth  River,  the  blue-clay  slate  that  crowned  all 
was  reached.  Here  a  visit  was  made  to  the  only  trilobite  bed  in  New  Eng- 
land. "These  trilobites,"  said  Mr.  Shaler,  "are  the  stony  remains  of  the 
earliest  life.  They  resemble  somewhat  the  horse-shoe  crabs  so  common  in 
Boston  Bay."  A  specimen  of  this  crab  was  picked  up  on  the  beach  and  the 
two  compared.  Placing  the  dead  crab  fresh  from  the  sea  and  his  ancient 


FIELD  DAYS  — SUMMER  SCHOOL  369 

cousin  side  by  side,  the  professor  said:  "Here  we  have  a  fish  from  last  sum- 
mer's tide  and  his  relation  from  the  steaming,  turbid  waters  of  an  almost 
shoreless  sea  that  flowed  over  this  spot  a  hundred  million  years  ago." 

Mr.  Shaler  would  often  return  from  the  day's  tramp — severe 
enough  to  tax  the  powers  of  men  much  younger  than  himself 
— very  tired.  Walking  and  talking,  explaining  and  reiterating 
all  the  way  were  taxing  occupations,  and  not  infrequently 
the  luncheon  which  had  been  put  up  for  one  was  shared  by 
several,  thoughtless  youths  having  forgotten  to  bring  their 
own  rations.  But  severe  as  was  the  day's  work,  at  the  end 
of  it  the  young  men  had  profound  respect  for  their  teacher's 
athletic  capacities.  Late  in  life  he  was  fond  of  telling  the 
story  of  his  once  having  overheard  two  students  talking  to- 
gether. "Where's  the  old  man?"  asked  one.  "Hush!"  said  the 
other,  "if  he  hears  you  call  him  old  man,  he'll  walk  your  d— d 
legs  off." 

As  we  have  seen  elsewhere,  Mr.  Shaler  early  became  inter- 
ested in  "the  idea  of  summer  instruction"  and  was  among  the 
first  to  undertake  teaching  at  that  season,  making  a  modest 
effort  of  his  own  in  1868  to  unite  teaching  with  his  field  work 
in  geology  by  taking  a  party  of  students  from  Cambridge  to 
Virginia.  In  the  summer  of  1875  he  organized  the  first  course 
in  geology  at  Camp  Harvard,  Cumberland  Gap,  Kentucky. 
The  scheme  in  its  general  application  was  not  warmly  welcomed 
at  first,  and  the  evolution  of  the  Harvard  Summer  School  as 
it  now  stands  with  its  hundreds  of  ardent  students  was  some- 
what precarious.  In  1886  President  Eliot  appointed  the  first 
committee  to  have  charge  of  summer  courses,  naming  Mr. 
Shaler  chairman,  but  it  was  not  until  five  years  later  that 
formal  recognition  was  given  by  the  Faculty  of  Arts  and  Sci- 
ences to  summer  courses.  Of  the  first  committee  appointed  by 
the  faculty  Mr.  Shaler  was  again  made  chairman.  For  nearly 
twenty  years  he  gave  himself  with  untiring  devotion  to  the 
development  of  this  phase  of  college  work,  using  unstintingly 
his  keen  and  vivacious  intellect  for  the  furthering  of  its  inter- 


370     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

ests ;  even  assuming,  in  times  of  stress,  financial  risks,  and  fur- 
thermore burdening  himself  with  a  great  deal  of  additional  work 
without  compensation  either  as  teacher  or  as  chairman.  Yet  in 
spite  of  many  hindrances  his  enthusiasm  and  zeal  never  flagged, 
and  he  persistently  advocated  the  continuous  utilization  of  the 
college  plant  —  its  laboratories  and  museums,  as  well  as  a  part 
of  the  time  given  up  to  the  long  vacation  —  for  the  benefit  of 
graduates,  teachers,  and  others  of  both  sexes. 

In  the  paper  on  School  Vacations,  already  referred  to,  is  found 
the  substance  of  his  argument  for  summer  schools  of  natural 
science.  "It  may  be  asked/'  he  says,  "how  the  student  weary 
of  his  school  year  can  be  expected  to  devote  a  large  part  of  his 
holiday  to  this  other  form  of  schooling ;  how  are  we  to  avoid  the 
evils  of  overtaxing  the  pupil  if  we  put  a  large  share  of  his  labor 
into  the  time  we  have  found  to  be  required  for  refreshment? 
Experience  gives  a  satisfactory  answer  to  this  question :  for  it 
shows  us  that  the  character  of  the  true  scientific  work  so  far 
differs  from  the  labor  done  in  the  school-room  that  he  finds  a 
large  measure  of  diversion  in  the  change  in  the  nature  of  his 
employment.  ...  In  the  laboratory  or  the  open  field  work 
of  nature  the  memory  is  no  more  taxed  than  in  the  ordinary 
occupations  of  men,  but  the  constructive  imagination  which  is 
generally  unemployed  in  the  tasks  of  term-time  is  actively 
aroused.  In  the  class-room  the  pupil  is  tied  to  print,  in  labora- 
tory work  he  deals  with  natural  objects  and  finds  in  his  contact 
with  them  the  quickening  of  spirit  which  to  be  conceived  needs 
to  be  felt.  My  own  experience  with  vacation  schools  shows  me 
that  ordinary  students  may,  without  suffering  any  tax  upon 
their  vitality,  year  after  year  devote  six  weeks  of  the  summer 
vacation  to  hard  work  in  natural -science  schools/' 

He  further  believed  that  "a  well-trained  young  man  in  college 
may  with  general  advantage  devote  a  small  part  of  the  year  he 
consecrates  to  literary  studies  to  some  easy  course  in  natural 
science ;  or  in  case  his  devotion  is  to  science  he  may  find  refresh- 
ment in  following  an  elective  in  music  or  metaphysics.  .  .  . 


VIEWS  ON  SCHOOL  VACATIONS  371 

The  same  mind  I  am  convinced  finds  profit  from  both  these 
educative  agents. " 

Another  consideration  he  urges  is  "the  waste  of  time  after 
each  vacation  in  getting  adjusted  to  school  routine,  for  the  rea- 
son that  the  work  of  the  student  is  of  a  nature  to  derive  little 
help  from  inherited  usage.  It  is  therefore  always  difficult  if  he 
be  a  wholesome  creature  to  build  in  him  habits  of  study ;  after 
each  break  in  his  schooling  he  returns  to  his  work  with  a  mind 
disused  to  the  tasks  of  the  school-room,  nearly  half  of  the  year 
is  spent  in  recovering  from  the  return  to  the  primitive  desultory 
life  of  the  savage  or  half-civilized  state." 

In  regard  to  the  lack  of  inherited  aptitude  for  study  in  con- 
trast to  the  accumulated  ancestral  habit  of  muscular  activities, 
he  says,  "the  youth  wrestling  with  the  elements  of  language  or 
mathematics  is  engaged  in  the  same  class  of  exhaustive  labor 
as  the  author  or  the  athlete.  We  cannot  expect  of  him  the 
persistent  toil  he  could  well  give  to  mechanical  employments 
which  lie  within  the  common  inheritances  of  the  race ;  few  of  our 
children  inherit  even  for  two  or  three  generations  the  intellect- 
ual habit.  School  work  is  the  creation  of  yesterday,  while  the 
normal  energies  of  mind  and  body  have  been  transmitted  to  us 
from  the  geological  ages.  ...  In  our  schools  we  are  dealing 
with  minds  and  bodies  which  have,  perhaps  happily,  a  vastly 
greater  inheritance  from  brute  and  savage  than  from  civilized 
life.  ...  In  the  matter  of  our  teaching-system,  as  in  many 
other  of  our  social  problems,  we  seem  to  be  always  'between 
the  devil  and  the  deep  sea ' :  on  the  one  hand  we  have  the  sav- 
age and  barbaric  man  whose  lusty  strength  and  simple  nature 
we  need  to  keep  alive,  but  whose  clumsy,  unthinking  ways 
we  must  better;  on  the  other  side,  the  bloodless,  half-human 
creature  which  our  schooling  breeds.  Our  task  is  to  make  a 
middle  kind  of  a  man  who  retains  the  good  of  savage  and 
scholar  alike." 

These  views,  new  when  he  first  stated  them,  have  since  be- 
come the  truisms  of  the  profession.  From  the  beginning  he 


372  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

worked  with  a  far-seeing  eye  for  the  advancement  of  the  Har- 
vard Summer  School,  and  through  it  for  the  advancement  of  the 
University.  In  the  administration  work  he  was  greatly  aided 
by  the  men  who  at  various  times  acted  as  his  secretaries :  Mr. 
Montague  Chamberlain,  Professor  J.  L.  Love,  'and  others,  who 
likewise  spared  no  pains  to  bring  the  school  to  a  high  plane  of 
efficiency.  It  was  not  the  intellectual  bide  only  that  was  well 
looked  after ;  the  comfort  and  happiness  of  the  students,  men 
and  women,  were  in  every  way  considered.  While  disliking  in 
such  a  connection  anything  of  the  nature  of  a  picnic  quality, 
Mr.  Shaler  was  in  favor  of  promoting  social  fellowship.  At  the 
reception  given  each  summer  byway  of  greeting  to  the  students, 
he  was  present,  whenever  possible,  to  welcome  them  with  a  cor- 
dial shake  of  the  hand  to  the  ancient  halls  of  learning.  On  their 
part,  although  he  was  unconscious  of  it,  their  attitude  toward 
him  was  almost  reverential.  He  was  often  greatly  pleased  with 
the  delight  in  the  attractiveness  of  the  old  surroundings  ex- 
pressed by  those  who  came  from  the  newer  parts  of  the  country ; 
he  particularly  enjoyed  the  air  of  proprietorship  shown  by  some 
of  these  scholar  pilgrims,  and  would  laughingly  say,  "These 
six- weeks  students  think  they  own  the  University :  the  women 
especially." 

At  first  it  was  difficult  to  get  just  the  men  he  wanted  among 
the  University  corps  of  teachers  to  assist,  but  of  late  years  the 
oldest  and  most  distinguished  professors  have  lectured  to  the 
large  classes  composed  of  unusually  serious-minded  listeners. 
Mr.  Shaler  considered  the  Summer  School  a  vast  instrument 
for  the  extension  of  Harvard's  influence  and  the  methods  of 
teaching  adopted  there.  Its  present  flourishing  condition  is  a 
monument  to  his  sagacity,  and  to  his  fostering  care  during  times 
of  great  discouragement. 

Mr.  Shaler  was  always  opposed  to  getting  up  things  with  too 
much  preparation  and  formality  —  the  thing  was  to  get  itself 
up.  He  often  cited  the  Summer  School  as  an  instance  of  an  in- 
stitution coming  into  being  almost  without  official  authority, 


MR.  SHALER  IN  1894 


THE  FOUNDING  OF  RADCLIFFE  373 

of  its  doing  its  work  and  gradually  winning  its  way  to  success 
without  much  avowed  sympathy  or  encouragement,  indeed 
against  a  certain  hostility.  He  would  add,  "  The  Bible  grew, 
the  Koran  was  made." 

It  may  be  said  here  that  Mr.  Shaler  presided  at  the  council- 
meeting  held  at  Mr.  Arthur  Gil  man's  house  which  took  the 
first  steps  for  the  founding  of  Radcliffe  College.  He  never 
taught  there,  for  the  reason  that  he  was  already  too  heavily 
burdened  with  his  University  work.  While  he  believed  that 
women  should  enjoy  the  most  liberal  educational  advantages, 
he  was  not  in  favor  of  co-education,  or  of  anything,  indeed, 
which  might  take  away  from  the  poetic  side  of  social  life.  He 
feared  that  matter-of-fact,  commonplace  contacts  might  do 
this.  He  never  cared  to  have  women  clerks  in  his  office,  for  the 
reason,  he  said,  that  "if  there  were  occasion  for  blowing  any 
one  up  for  neglect  of  duty,  he  preferred  to  blow  up  a  man 
rather  than  a  woman." 

In  his  teaching  of  teachers  who  came  to  the  Summer  School, 
as  well  as  with  his  College  students,  so  far  from  wishing  to  keep 
them  in  leading-strings  or  subordinate  to  his  will  he  aimed  to 
render  them  able  to  walk  by  themselves.  He  believed  that  the 
usual  efforts  to  obtain  discipline  and  attention  through  habits 
created  from  the  will  of  the  teacher  impressed  upon  the  youth, 
were  wrong.  In  his  opinion  these  essentials  can  be  profitably 
won  only  through  the  exercise  of  the  will  of  the  pupil.  If  the 
exercise  of  this  power  arises  from  the  mere  dominance  of  the 
teacher  the  effect  is  to  repress  development.  He  sometimes 
reproached  the  kindergarten  methods  for  fostering  a  limp  and 
dependent  attitude,  for  building  up  a  state  of  mind  that  re- 
quired perpetual  amusement.  He  said  he  could  always  tell  a 
victim  of  the  system  by  his  inability  to  fix  his  attention  long 
on  any  subject  or  to  work  alone.  He  had  far  less  patience  with 
such  students  than  with  men  who  were  simply  stupid,  or  with 
those  who  could  not  even  think  of  thinking.  In  the  one  case 
he  trusted  to  a  belated  awakening,  in  the  other  to  some  kind 


374  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

of  automatic  response  that  might  involve  the  heart  even  though 
the  brain  were  benumbed.  At  any  rate,  stupidity  he  reckoned 
as  something  firmly  established  in  human  nature  that  had  to 
be  put  up  with.  The  confirmed  in  dulness  he  often  counselled 
to  seek  their  strength  in  manual  dexterities.  He  by  no  means 
despised  a  small  talent  if  it  fulfilled  its  task.  Nor  did  he  over- 
emphasize attainment.  He  used  to  say  *'it  was  not  worth  while 
for  humanity  to  be  bumptious  about  what  it  had  accomplished, 
for  the  little  that  is  done  seems  nothing  when  we  look  forward 
and  see  how  much  we  have  to  do."  This  conception  of  the  vast 
and  unattainable  field  of  knowledge  came  to  him  at  an  early 
age  as  will  be  seen  from  the  accompanying  extract  from  his 
journal. 

Sept.  18, 1859.  When  one  appreciates  the  shortness  of  life  and  the  vastness 
of  nature  every  moment  lost  to  study  and  contemplation  seems  a  loss  irre- 
parable; the  days,  weeks  and  months,  as  they  glide  by,  are  each  bearing  in 
its  course  a  portion  of  our  life  without  adding  to  our  store  of  wisdom.  .  .  . 
Like  a  wanderer  in  a  labyrinth  trying  first  one  path  and  then  another  and 
hurrying  with  eager  steps  to  reach  the  goal,  one  finds  himself  at  length  at 
the  place  of  his  departure.  ...  To  many  this  view  of  all  the  end  of  philo- 
sophy might  be  discouraging,  and  indeed  it  would  be  if  the  end  of  all  study 
were  to  gain  the  object  of  our  search.  But  the  true  philosopher  has  more  than 
mere  curiosity  to  tempt  him  to  give  his  life  to  contemplation  and  research, 
for  although  at  last  he  but  gains  a  knowledge  of  his  own  insignificance,  his 
studies  have  brought  him  nearer  his  Creator. 

The  truth  is,  as  time  wore  on,  mere  intellectual  distinction 
unaccompanied  by  high  character  was  held  in  only  moderate 
esteem ;  to  his  mind  the  supreme  excellence  consisted  in  being 
a  gentleman.  But  in  whatever  shape  it  presented  itself, 
whether  able-minded  or  dull-witted,  he  had  great  reverence 
for  the  organism  called  man,  and  was  ever  conscious  of  the 
immense  struggle  the  ages  had  witnessed  to  bring  him  to  the 
place  where  he  now  stands.  He  not  infrequently  quoted  Em- 
erson's saying,  that  it  was  something  for  man  to  have  got  up 
on  his  hind  legs  and  shuffled  off  some  of  his  animal  propensi- 
ties. It  was  this  historic  sense  that  enabled  him  to  see  the 


HIS  RELATIONS  WITH  STUDENTS  375 

latent  significance  that  lay  beneath  the  smooth-faced  vacan- 
cies of  the  youths  that  passed  before  him,  and  to  such  of  these 
as  would  submit  to  his  guidance  he  was  a  born  director  of 
souls.  How  many  did  submit  is  shown  by  the  hundreds  of 
letters  from  students  acknowledging  the  help  he  had  given 
them,  the  perverted  ways  abandoned  at  his  stirring  call  to 
lead  the  clean  and  wholesome  life.  His  willingness  to  bother, 
up  to  a  certain  point,  with  men  of  crooked  ways,  is  all  the 
more  remarkable  since  there  was  no  one  who  had  less  call 
for  indulgence  than  he.  Nevertheless,  his  long  experience  had 
taught  him  to  weigh  a  man's  errors  against  his  temptations, 
and  these  he  felt  were  to  a  certain  extent  involved  in  the  pre- 
vious conditions  of  the  man's  life.  He  therefore  looked  upon  in- 
dividuals tolerantly,  with  a  discriminating  eye  as  to  their  values 
and  their  needs,  and  without  being  sermonic  he  sooner  or  later 
imparted  to  them  a  sense  of  what  was  dross  and  what  was  gold 
—  a  lesson  which  he  himself  had  so  well  learned.  The  fact  is, 
his  influence  for  good  was  great  because  he  lived  on  the  plane 
of  right  doing  to  which  he  directed  others. 

Mr.  Shaler 's  relations  with  his  students  were  the  most  vital  and 
interesting  of  the  contacts  that  came  to  him.  Young  men  of 
all  degrees  and  temperaments  liked  him,  not  because  he  spared 
their  faults,  was  truckling,  or  sought  to  be  popular,  but  because 
he  met  them  on  the  broad  level  of  humanity ;  and  if  in  his  esti- 
mate of  them  he  sometimes  gave  them  credit  for  what  they 
should  be,  rather  than  for  what  they  were,  in  the  long  run  his 
judgment  was  as  true  as  it  was  generous.  The  foundation  of 
the  attractive  power  that  drew  men  to  him  was  his  manliness 
and  outgoing  sympathy ;  he  had  a  kind  word  to  bridge  the  deeps 
that  lie  between  most  human  beings.  Furthermore,  when 
he  commended  a  student  it  was  with  whole-hearted  liberality, 
when  he  condemned  him  it  was  in  a  broad  and  catholic  way. 
Detesting  anything  like  mechanical  treatment  of  a  human  soul, 
he  refused  to  be  hemmed  in  by  rules  or  to  raise  authority  to  a 
system  of  oppression.  Each  individual  was  to  be  treated  with 


376     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

reference  to  his  capacities.  "The  business  of  the  true  teacher," 
he  says,  "is  like  that  of  the  gardener  who  is  dealing  with 
hybrids,  where  the  product  of  each  seed  is  a  problem  to  be 
studied  at  every  step  of  its  development,  to  be  fostered  by  all 
the  resources  in  the  way  of  soil  and  climate  which  can  be 
applied  to  it  through  all  the  resources  of  art." 

The  rough  classification  of  men,  with  the  assumption  that  all 
who  fall  within  each  category  are  alike,  he  regarded  as  gross 
injustice  especially  in  the  treatment  of  the  youth.  To  illustrate 
the  difference  in  men's  capacity,  he  often  cited  the  tests  of  the 
mathematical  examinations  in  the  University  of  Cambridge 
(England).  Reckoning  the  mathematical  capacity  of  the  or- 
dinary intelligent  man  at  one  in  the  scale,  it  would  have  been 
found  that  the  ablest  from  among  about  a  thousand  youths  is 
something  like  one  hundred  times  as  great. 

In  any  difficulty  he  was  always  willing  to  hear  the  boy's  story 
twice  told  and  oftener  if  necessary,  for  he  knew  that  truth  some- 
times has  the  face  of  falsehood ;  and  not  infrequently  he  exulted 
in  snatching  a  boy  from  the  punishment  that  had  been  meted 
out  to  him  as  he  proved  on  misapprehended  evidence.  It  took 
a  great  deal  to  blunt  the  edge  of  his  sympathy,  but  the  student 
who  presumed  upon  the  fact  that  he  was  tender-hearted  learned 
to  his  cost  that  he  was  also  tough-minded.  There  were  some 
offences  he  would  not  forgive  —  lying,  cheating,  meanness,  and 
cruelty ;  and  to  the  one  steeped  in  deception  he  was  a  terror. 
For  the  thoroughly  intractable  there  was  but  one  sentence: 
"  Take  him  to  the  edge  of  the  earth  and  drop  him  off  " ;  or  again, 
when  a  worthless  man  was  condemned  he  would  say,  "He's 
nane  the  waur  of  a  hanging."  To  have  "a  talk"  with  the  Dean 
in  his  office  sometimes  produced  a  hair-lifting  crisis,  his  ener- 
getic statement  often  affecting  a  decided  betterment  in  a  young 
man's  future  career.  The  man  of  innate  and  fixed  evil  pro- 
pensities caused  him  bitter  disappointment;  he  contemplated 
him  sadly,  free  will  and  determinism  struggling  in  the  ac- 
count he  took  of  him.  At  times  he  seemed  to  grasp  the  whole 


HOSPITAL  VISITS  377 

meaning  of  a  student's  life ;  in  his  presence  he  became  blind  to 
the  grace  and  beauty  of  youth,  seeing  only  the  unregenerate 
man  he  was  to  be,  pitying  him  for  writing  his  own  sentence  in 
the  book  of  fate. 

His  solicitude  for  the  students'  welfare  was  not  confined  to 
the  precincts  of  the  College  Yard;  when  they  went  abroad  he 
still  kept  an  eye  upon  them.  He  often  said,  "  I  hold  it  a  part 
of  my  business  to  do  what  I  can  for  every  wight  that  comes  to 
this  place."  When  they  got  into  scrapes  he  went  to  the  police 
courts  and  watched  the  proceedings  to  see  that  justice  was  done 
them,  or  to  give  what  evidence  he  could  in  their  favor.  He 
confessed  that  it  was  his  habit  after  public  days  in  Boston  to 
take  a  look  in  at  the  Cambridge  police  court  next  day  to  be  sure 
that  his  boys,  if  in  any  trouble,  had  fair  play. 

The  hospital  was  also  the  scene  of  many  of  his  beneficences. 
During  the  fifteen  years  that  he  was  Dean  he  never  failed  to  visit 
a  sick  student  belonging  to  his  department.  In  cases  of  serious 
illness  he  called  every  day ;  and  in  his  afternoon  walks  to  take 
in  the  Stillman  Infirmary  was  almost  a  daily  occurrence.  Going 
the  doctor's  rounds  in  his  youth  with  his  father,  his  studies  in 
anatomy,  as  well  as  his  ample  experience  in  the  ways  of  ill- 
health,  made  him  an  excellent  adviser ;  he  had  passed  through 
so  many  phases  of  physical  misery  and  come  out  fairly  whole 
that  he  was  a  cheerful  and  encouraging  friend  to  the  sick.  His 
very  presence  brought  comfort  to  many  a  forlorn  boy;  the 
down-hearted  he  encouraged  and  the  one  who  complained  he 
rallied,  telling  him  "to  grin  and  bear  it."  During  his  own 
last  illness  he  said  with  a  grim  smile  one  day,  when  suffering 
acutely,  "Perhaps  I  have  been  hard  on  the  boys  inclined  to 
whine  a  little  after  this  diabolical  operation  for  appendicitis  ; 
it  is  n't  pleasant  after  all."  There  was  no  home  so  poor  or 
hospital  so  well  equipped  that  he  did  not  enter,  and,  if  any- 
thing was  lacking  for  the  comfort  of  the  sick  boy,  make  a 
vigorous  protest  and  find  the  means  of  getting  it. 

In  the  hospital,  as  one  of  his  students  writes,  he  would  pull 


378     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

up  beside  a  bed,  feel  a  pulse,  diagnose  the  case,  tell  the  boy 
that  he  heard  good  reports  of  his  work,  and  then  fall  into  dis- 
pute with  the  doctor  on  the  effects  of  anti-toxin  on  diphtheria. 
He  inaugurated  a  system  of  sick  reports  whereby  a  student's 
illness  might  become  immediately  known  to  the  authorities 
and  his  condition  promptly  looked  after  by  competent  phy- 
sicians. He  disliked  anything  like  haphazard  methods.  He 
urged  that  supervision  in  this  and  other  regards  be  pushed  to 
the  military  standard  of  inevitableness,  for  which  he  had  a  great 
respect,  his  early  hauntings  of  a  military  post  having  given  him 
an  understanding  and  appreciation  of  order,  regularity,  and 
•system. 

If  he  was  thus  concerned  for  the  sick  body  he  was  still  more 
solicitous  about  the  sick  soul  of  a  youth.  There  were  few  occa- 
sions when  he  was  not  accessible  to  a  student.  It  is  told  by 
one  of  them,  now  a  man  of  distinction,  that  time  and  again  when 
he  was  in  trouble,  or  when  feeling  the  need  of  stimulating  talk 
and  counsel,  he  would  go  in  the  evening  to  Mr.  Shaler's  office 
and,  since  the  door  was  fastened  against  intruders,  attract  at- 
tention by  throwing  pebbles  up  at  his  window.  Not  only  was 
he  never  refused  admittance,  but,  on  the  contrary,  was  cor- 
dially welcomed  and  given  the  best  of  fellowship  and  advice. 
Mr.  Shaler's  courtesy  at  that  place  and  time  is  especially  note- 
worthy, for  he  particularly  enjoyed  the  peace  of  the  empty 
building  and  the  sense  that,  free  from  interruption,  he  might 
get  on  with  his  work. 

He  had  intense  sympathy  for  the  lonely  youth  who  for  the 
first  time  had  left  behind  him  home  and  friends.  He  remem- 
bered the  time  when  he  too  had  been  a  stranger  in  a  strange 
land  and  had  somehow  got  the  impression  that  a  man  from 
outside  of  New  England  did  not  count,  indeed  that  the  rest  of 
the  country  was  in  a  way  superfluous.  He  therefore  exerted 
himself  to  fortify  the  youth's  good  opinion  of  himself  and  to 
hearten  him  up  as  to  the  value  of  his  locality,  even  if  it  was  in 
the  far  West.  One  feature  of  the  College  administration  which 


THE  UNIVERSITY  TEAS  379 

had  his  active  support  was  the  Students'  Reception  Committee, 
whose  object  it  was  to  assist  the  newcomer  to  adjust  himself 
to  his  new  surroundings  and  give  him  the  feeling  from  the  first 
that  the  College  was  directly  concerned  in  his  comfort  and  suc- 
cess. Out  of  this  committee,  or  rather  because  of  it,  there  sprang 
up  among  the  wives  of  the  professors  an  association  for  giving 
the  students  a  chance  to  meet  socially  their  teachers  and  their 
teachers'  families  as  well  as  any  distinguished  men  who  might 
happen  to  be  in  Cambridge.  The  entertainments  they  set  on 
foot  are  known  as  "The  University  Teas,"  and  are  held  in  the 
parlor  of  the  Phillips  Brooks  House  every  Friday  afternoon  dur- 
ing the  winter  months.  It  was  realized  that  the  afternoon  tea 
for  students,  to  be  anything  else  than  an  exhibition  of  unsuccess- 
ful conscientiousness,  must  be  entered  upon  with  hope,  faith, 
and  verve.  There  were  at  first  gentle  hints  that  except  for  the 
concrete  fact  of  chocolate  and  sandwiches  this  form  of  socia- 
bility was  all  moonshine,  but  by  and  by  a  different  sentiment 
prevailed.  The  "teas"  grew  to  be  a  success.  The  eagerness 
with  which  the  students  gathered  about  their  favorite  teachers 
showed  that  they  did  care  for  social  fellowship  with  them,  and 
the  geniality  of  all  who  came,  from  President  Eliot  to  the 
youngest  usher,  gave  sign  that  the  end  for  which  they  were 
initiated  had  been  attained.  Mr.  Shaler  was  intensely  inter- 
ested in  the  idea,  and  rarely  failed  to  go  to  the  "teas,"  though 
he  was  not  a  friend  in  general  of  this  form  of  entertainment. 
Standing  before  the  large  open  fireplace,  he  was  sure  to  be  the 
centre  of  a  group  of  young  men  who  stood  about  him  eager  to 
grasp  his  hand  and  listen  to  his  stories.  Many  doubtless  have 
well  fixed  in  their  memories  this  picture  of  him. 

In  the  early  days,  when  students  of  natural  history  were  few, 
it  was  easy  to  invite  them  to  dinner  or  to  a  Sunday  evening  sup- 
per, and  in  this  way  establish  some  friendly  relations  with  them  ; 
but  in  the  course  of  time  the  numbers  so  increased  that  it  would 
have  taken  almost  every  day  of  the  college  terms  to  entertain 
them  at  table,  especially  since  Mr.  Shaler  would  allow  no  pick- 


380  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

ing  and  choosing,  all  must  be  asked  or  none  at  all.  Receptions, 
therefore,  had  to  be  resorted  to,  a  very  imperfect  and,  to  many 
a  shy  student,  a  formidable  device,  for  recognizing  his  social 
existence.  On  these  occasions  Mr.  Shaler  tried  to  make  his 
guests  feel  at  home,  and  doubtless  succeeded,  for  they  seemed 
happy,  —  and  youths  as  a  rule  have  n't  the  power  of  making 
believe  in  such  matters ;  on  the  contrary,  they  are  pitilessly  in- 
different to  well-meant  efforts  that  don't  happen  to  please.  At 
any  rate,  the  welcome  to  the  home  was  not  altogether  barren 
of  results,  as  is  proved  by  numerous  letters  and  the  kind  words 
of  men  scattered  all  over  the  country  who  seem  to  remember 
with  pleasure  even  so  slight  a  courtesy. 

Among  many  amusing  experiences  involved  in  the  entertain- 
ing of  students  there  was  one  in  particular  which  Mr.  Shaler 
used  to  relate  as  a  sort  of  family  joke.  One  Saturday  after- 
noon he  mentioned  to  his  wife  that  he  had  invited  three  young 
men  to  supper  the  next  evening.  When  the  hostess,  somewhat 
belated,  reached  the  library,  instead  of  three  there  were  four 
students.  In  the  introduction  that  followed  the  names  of  all  but 
the  fourth  were  distinctly  uttered,  but  his  somehow  seemed  to 
linger  on  Mr.  Shaler's  tongue  as  if  he  thought  she  ought  to  know 
it,  as  belonging  to  one  whom  she  must  have  bidden  to  the  feast. 
This  hesitancy  and  presumption  of  superior  knowledge  on  the 
part  of  the  other  was  not  remarkable  in  the  academic  world, 
since  a  Napoleonic  memory  only  could  successfully  associate 
names  with  the  constantly  changing  faces  of  the  youths  who 
formed  the  moving  procession.  One  of  the  young  gentlemen 
was  a  Japanese,  and  since  he  hailed  from  the  farthest  East  he 
was  given  the  seat  of  honor.  With  the  usual  politeness  of  his 
race  he  took  whatever  was  offered  him,  but  apparently  with- 
out interest.  His  interest  in  fact  had  almost  instantaneously 
become  fixed  upon  a  Japanese  picture,  a  silk,  transparent, 
flowery  thing  fastened  with  thumb-tacks  on  the  wall  opposite. 
From  its  contemplation  neither  oysters  nor  chicken  salad  had 
the  power  to  allure  him.  At  length,  as  if  endurance  had  reached 


ENTERTAINING  STUDENTS  381 

its  limits,  he  exclaimed,  "Madam,  will  you  permit  me  to  arrange 
that  picture?  It  is  upside  down  and  wrong  side  out."  It  is 
needless  to  say,  those  were  the  days  before  Mr.  Denman  Ross 
had  taught  his  fellow  citizens  the  meaning  of  Japanese  art ;  to 
the  average  Western  mind  it  was  a  plexus  of  incomprehensible 
design,  the  lettering  even  giving  no  token;  therefore  the  more 
outr£  the  disposition  of  a  decorative  piece,  the  more  in  keeping 
it  seemed  with  the  Oriental  plan  —  if  plan  there  were  in  so 
great  confusion. 

The  picture  made  right  in  his  eyes,  our  young  friend  resumed 
his  seat  and  like  a  Christian  proceeded  to  eat  the  food  massed 
on  his  plate.  Still  there  was  a  sense  that  something  yet  was 
wrong.  At  this  juncture  the  youth  whose  name  had  been  dis- 
creetly slurred  suddenly  asked,  "Shall  I  see  Mr.  P to- 
night?" Assured  that  it  was  possible  but  not  probable,  he  re- 
lapsed into  silence,  only  violating  it  a  little  later  to  inquire  if 

Miss was  likely  to  appear.  Informed  that  it  was  not  likely, 

"Well,  then,"  he  exclaimed,  "where  in  the  world  am  I?"  En- 
lightened as  to  his  whereabouts,  he  begged  to  be  excused,  add- 
ing that  he  had  been  invited  to  take  supper  at  Mr.  P 's. 

After  his  withdrawal  we  once  more  subsided,  hoping  to  finish  the 
meal  without  further  upheaval;  but  it  was  not  to  be.  A  few 
moments  only  had  passed  when  the  furious  ringing  of  the  door- 
bell sent  Mr.  Shaler  in  alarm  to  see  what  was  the  matter.  He 
found  the  same  youth  back  again.  "I'm  sorry  to  trouble  you," 

he  said,  "but  Mr.  P 's  family  have  gone  to  church;  so  I 

thought  I  would  return  and  finish  the  evening  where  I  had 
begun  it." 

It  must  be  confessed  that  at  times  the  student  who  called 
in  the  evening  was  a  trial.  To  quit  his  books  and  comfortable 
seat  by  the  fire  and  talk  to  a  lad  of  no  particular  parts,  seemed 
to  Mr.  Shaler's  family  a  great  waste  of  his  precious  time;  but 
he  seldom  was  willing  to  refuse  the  visitor ;  nor  was  he  willing 
to  have  his  wife  do  so  either.  One  evening  when  an  unusually 
dull  youth  was  announced,  her  perverted  heart  inclined  her  to 


382     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

find  an  excuse.  "I  think,"  he  said,  "you  had  better  see  him," 
and  when  she  further  remonstrated  he  added,  "Remember  his 
uncle"  (a  charming  and  gifted  gentleman).  "I  do,"  was  the 
answer;  "his  uncle  wouldn't  have  tolerated  his  nephew's 
company  for  five  minutes,  much  less  for  the  whole  evening." 
"Then  so  much  the  worse  for  the  uncle,"  was  his  final  reply. 

Mr.  Shaler  had  some  curious  experiences  in  his  efforts  to  get 
money  for  deserving  students.  Once  he  wrote  to  a  wealthy  and 
influential  friend,  Mr.  Forbes,  who  had  made  a  fortune  in  the 
Eastern  trade,  asking  him  to  aid  a  young  Chinese  to  finish  his 
education.  The  choleric  gentleman  promptly  replied  that  he 
would  not  give  a  cent  to  a  Chinaman  or  to  any  other  student, 
that  education  was  being  run  into  the  ground,  and  so  forth. 
Application  was  about  to  be  made  elsewhere  when  another  letter 
came  containing  a  liberal  check  with  the  words:  "I  send  this 
money  to  your  student  with  the  greatest  pleasure.  The  truest 
gentleman  and  best  friend  I  ever  knew  was  a  Chinaman." 

It  was  Mr.  Shaler 's  privilege  and  pleasure  to  be  much  con- 
cerned with  this  problem  of  helping  men  to  attain  their  educa- 
tion, and  in  the  effort  he  spared  neither  time  nor  money.  Much 
is  said  of  the  rich  man  at  Harvard,  but  few  knew,  as  well  as  he 
did,  the  dire  poverty  of  many  who  entered  its  halls :  of  the  close 
calculation  in  families  to  meet  the  expense  of  tuition,  or  of  the 
outside  labor  of  students  themselves  to  eke  out  existence.  Often 
in  his  visits  to  their  homes  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  them  when 
ill,  or  to  consult  with  their  parents,  he  saw  much  that  was 
pathetic.  Sometimes  he  was  convinced  that  ambition  outran 
capacity,  and  regretted  the  unprofitable  strain  to  furnish  a  col- 
lege education  where  manual  training  seemed  fittest. 

The  Russian  Jews  in  their  desperate  fight  for  advancement 
often  awakened  his  profound  admiration  and  sympathy.  There 
was  one  student  of  whom  he  sometimes  spoke  as  typical  of 
many  others.  Observing  that  this  young  man  was  pale  and 
thin,  he  sought  to  know  something  of  his  circumstances  and 
found  that  he  was  actually  suffering  from  the  want  of  food. 


RUSSIAN  JEWS  AS  STUDENTS  383 

Moreover,  in  addition  to  keeping  up  with  his  own  studies  he  was 
teaching  at  night  a  class  of  young  Russians  so  that  they  too 
might  grasp  an  education.  Some  money  was  given  him  with  the 
injunction  that  every  cent  should  be  spent  for  nourishment. 
The  answer  came,  "  Upon  these  terms  I  cannot  accept  it.  I  give 
to  my  family  half  of  all  I  get."  Of  course  he  was  made  to  take 
the  money  and  for  some  time  was  carefully  looked  after.  At  last 
he  disappeared,  but,  having  his  address,  Mr.  Shaler  went  to  look 
him  up.  The  old  man  who  opened  the  door  insisted  in  broken 
English  that  no  such  person  dwelt  in  the  tenement.  His  stolid 
negation  indeed  was  so  persistent  that  the  visitor  was  about  to 
leave  the  house  when  a  little  girl  who  had  loitered  in  the  back- 
ground exclaimed,  "Why,  grandpa,  what  do  you  mean?  You 
know  he  does  live  here.  Come,  mister,"  she  said,  "I'll  show  you 
the  way."  Following  his  guide  through  a  labyrinth  of  dark  en- 
tries, he  finally  reached  a  small,  badly  ventilated  room  where 
the  sick  student  was  lying  upon  his  squalid  bed.  After  a  few 
minutes'  talk,  encouraged  and  cheered  by  the  presence  which 
always  brought  hope  and  comfort  into  the  sick  room,  the 
young  man  began  talking  of  his  life  in  America.  He  said: 
"Hard  as  it  is  in  many  respects,  it  is  a  paradisiacal  life  com- 
pared with  existence  in  Russia."  And  when  asked  the  meaning 
of  the  old  man's  denial,  "Ah,"  he  answered,  his  face  flushing, 
"you  can  have  no  idea  of  the  tyranny  we  lived  under.  My  fa- 
ther could  not  conceive  of  a  stranger  coming  to  see  me  without 
some  evil  purpose.  He  undoubtedly  thought  you  were  a  spy, 
or  a  policeman  in  disguise.  He  has  not  been  long  enough  in 
America  to  get  rid  of  his  torturing  fears,  or  to  have  the  faintest 
idea  of  what  freedom  means.  My  little  niece,  now,  was  born  in 
this  country  and  is  as  fearless  as  an  eaglet." 

Another  Russian  student  was  asked  to  find  out,  if  possible, 
why  it  was  his  young  countrymen  stood  so  well  at  school.  He 
returned  after  a  few  days  with  the  answer:  "The  Russian  Jew 
needs  no  amusement,  he  does  n't  waste  his  time  with  games, 
they're  nothing  to  him,  his  studies  and  his  manual  labor  furnish 


384  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

all  the  play  he  wants."  This  account  was  later  confirmed  by 
a  very  intelligent  American  teacher  in  one  of  the  public  schools 
in  the  Russian  quarter.  Mr.  Shaler  frequently  walked  through 
this  part  of  Boston  and  spoke  of  the  sturdy  looks  of  the  children 
and  the  strong  maternal  aspect  of  the  young  married  women. 
He  also  commented  upon  the  change  for  the  better  in  the 
appearance  of  the  streets:  the  gradual  recession  of  squalor 
before  the  march  of  the  intrepid,  strong-willed  immigrants. 
One  day  he  returned  from  his  office  much  amused  by  the  naive 
remark  of  a  young  Russian  from  this  same  neighborhood  who 
wanted  to  enter  college.  When  questioned  as  to  his  means  of 
support,  he  said  that  his  mother  kept  a  clothing  store  run  on  the 
instalment  plan.  "But,"  asked  the  professor,  "doesn't  she 
lose  a  great  deal  of  money  selling  her  goods  in  that  way?  "  "  Oh, 
no,"  was  the  prompt  reply ;  "  she  only  sells  to  Jews."  Mr.  Shaler 
was  on  very  good  terms  with  many  of  the  Jews  in  Boston.  He 
was  sometimes  invited  to  their  social  entertainments  as  well 
as  to  speak  at  the  annual  dinner  of  the  Purim  Association. 

There  was  another  class  of  persons  with  whom  he  got  on  well, 
and  this  was  the  class  known  in  college  circles  as  "Mothers." 
With  them  he  was  always  patient,  even  with  the  one  who  felt 
when  she  paid  the  tuition  fee  that  she  had  bought  the  entire 
University,  also  the  time  and  devotion  of  the  teacher,  to  be 
dedicated  exclusively  to  her  son's  interests,  mind,  body,  charac- 
ter, and  estate  —  for  the  finding  of  occupation  for  the  young 
man  when  he  was  through  with  college  was  often  an  implied  obli- 
gation. Mr.  Shaler  used  to  say  when  he  wanted  to  get  down  to  the 
bed-rock  of  a  youth's  nature  that  he  would  go  to  the  mother; 
that  she  knew  the  boy  infinitely  better  than  his  father,  and  if 
she  would  she  could  lay  her  finger  on  the  weak  spot  of  his  char- 
acter. Once,  in  a  state  of  perplexity  about  the  evil  courses  of  a 
young  man  with  whom  he  had  to  deal,  he  went  to  the  mother, 
and,  after  stating  certain  facts,  put  the  question,  "  I  shall  be 
greatly  pleased,  Madam,  if  you'll  tell  me  just  what's  the  matter 
with  your  boy."  "Oh,"  she  answered,  "there's  nothing  special 


MASTER  AND  APPRENTICE  385 

the  matter  with  John,  except  that  he 's  got  no  soul."  "  I  believe 
you're  right,  and  now,"  said  Mr.  Shaler  cheerfully,  "we  must 
set  to  work  to  make  one."  And,  strange  to  say,  after  a  while 
there  did  appear  the  faint  glimmerings  of  a  soul  —  stirred  later 
to  warmer  life  by  the  call  to  arms ;  and  then  through  the  gates 
of  death  this  feeble  soul,  doubtless,  elsewhere  won  its  happier 
chance. 

Hundreds  of  letters  from  Mr.  Shaler's  students  and  their 
mothers  show  their  attitude  of  mind  toward  the  teacher.  It  is 
very  clear  that  in  many  cases  the  way  to  knowledge  was  through 
the  gateway  of  affection.  No  one  knew  better  than  he  the  ad- 
vantages of  the  naturalist  method  of  instruction.  But  in  this 
instance,  whatever  the  system,  it  was  the  man  himself  who 
drew  his  students  near  to  him.  The  method  of  instruction  by 
experiment,  he  says,  "  consists  in  the  close  relation  which  it 
secures  between  the  teacher  and  the  pupil  and  the  more  sym- 
pathetic nature  of  their  contacts.  .  .  .  Very  soon  the  student 
finds  himself  dependent  upon  him.  Such  are  the  depths  of  the 
phenomenal  world  that  this  mutual  relation  may  indefinitely 
continue  and  always  afford  beautiful  opportunities  for  sym- 
pathetic contact  between  men  who  are  united  in  the  work  as 
master  and  apprentice." 

That  these  "beautiful  opportunities"  were  so  freely  made 
use  of  is  a  noble  tribute  to  the  master's  outgoing  sympathy  and 
to  the  generous  response  of  the  apprentice. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

ADMINISTRATIVE    WORK 
1891-1903 

IN  1891  Mr.  Shaler  was  made  Dean  of  the  Lawrence  Scientific 
School.  He  accepted  the  office  reluctantly,  although  he  had 
for  some  years  been  actively  engaged  in  furthering  the  develop- 
ment of  the  School ;  indeed,  according  to  one  of  his  associates, 
its  revival  after  1886,  when  there  were  only  fourteen  students, 
was  mainly  his  work.  While  foreseeing  its  possibilities  he  also 
had  a  keen  sense  of  the  labor  their  realization  would  cost.  It 
was  a  task,  however,  which  he  scarcely  felt  justified  in  refus- 
ing, especially  since  Mr.  Gordon  McKay  had  determined  to 
leave  the  bulk  of  his  fortune  to  this  department  of  Harvard 
University.  As  they  had  for  so  long  a  time  mutually  instilled 
into  each  other's  minds  ideas  as  to  the  kind  of  institution  it 
would  be  well  to  foster,  Mr.  McKay  naturally  turned  to  Mr. 
Shaler  as  the  person  best  fitted  to  guide  it  along  the  lines  he 
had  laid  out.  Therefore,  weighing  carefully  all  these  consid- 
erations, Mr.  Shaler  found  strong  reasons  for  taking  up  the 
duties  of  the  deanship,  and,  having  once  assumed  them,  with 
his  accustomed  zeal  he  set  about  making  the  most  of  the 
opportunity. 

Under  Dean  Shaler's  leadership  the  Lawrence  Scientific 
School  —  a  large  and  shapeless  problem,  one  might  almost  say 
a  "mortifying  failure,"  when  he  took  hold  of  it  —  rose  from 
a  more  or  less  despised  part  of  the  University  to  an  efficient, 
prosperous,  and  commanding  position.  During  the  fifteen  years 
he  was  at  the  head  of  it  the  number  of  students  doubled  twice 
within  the  last  decade  and  increased  to  a  total  of  five  hundred 
and  thirty,  notwithstanding  the  gain  at  times  was  temporarily 


MR.  SHALER  IN  1900 


DEAN  OF  THE  SCIENTIFIC  SCHOOL          387 

checked  by  higher  requirements  for  entrance,  this  leading  to  the 
transfer  of  men  in  "general  science"  to  the  College.  Surmount- 
ing great  difficulties,  the  resources  of  the  School  were  diversified 
and  strengthened  on  many  lines.  The  development  was  espe- 
cially marked  in  engineering,  mining,  metallurgy,  architecture, 
landscape-architecture,  and  forestry.  In  addition  there  were 
four-year  programmes  in  chemistry,  geology,  biology,  anatomy, 
and  physiology.  These  four-year  programmes  under  the  new 
organization  are  things  of  the  past,  as  also  the  old  name,  the 
Lawrence  Scientific  School  giving  place  in  the  University 
Catalogue  to  the  Graduate  School  of  Applied  Science.  These 
changes  are  embodied  in  the  plan  of  reorganizing  the  work  of  the 
School  which  Dean  Shaler  announced  as  his  last  official  act. 
While  in  charge  of  the  School  Mr.  Shaler  lifted  its  scholarly 
and  moral  tone,  as  well  as  its  numbers,  to  that  stage  of  advance- 
ment where  Gordon  McKay's  magnificent  bequest  made  possi- 
ble a  brilliant  and  expansive  future.  It  was,  therefore,  a  sur- 
prise and  bitter  disappointment  to  him,  upon  his  return  from 
Europe  in  the  spring  of  1904,  to  find  that  negotiations  were  on 
foot  between  the  corporations  of  Harvard  College  and  the 
Massachusetts  Institute  of  Technology  for  transferring  to  the 
latter  institution  a  large  share  of  the  income  of  the  endowment 
which  Mr.  Shaler,  through  his  friendship  with  the  giver,  had 
been  instrumental  in  bringing  to  the  service  of  the  Lawrence 
Scientific  School.  More  than  this,  there  was  the  provision,  as 
Mr.  Shaler  states  in  an  address  delivered  before  the  graduates 
of  the  Lawrence  Scientific  School,  that  the  institution  which 
Mr.  McKay  called  "his  School"  should  disappear,  and  that  in 
place  of  it  there  should  be  benefited  another  institution,  not 
a  constituent  part  of  Harvard,  but  a  supplement  to  the  existing 
Institute  with  some  slight  semblance  of  joint  control  on  the 
part  of  the  governing  boards  of  the  University.  The  discovery 
of  this  strange  and  unexpected  danger  at  the  moment  of  fair- 
est promise,  when,  by  sound  accomplishment,  the  School  had 
reached  the  gateway  of  a  great  future,  "perhaps,"  as  he  said, 


i 

V 


388  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

"the  noblest  that  ever  opened  to  a  School  of  Science/'  filled 
him  with  the  most  profound  chagrin. 

His  endeavor  to  maintain  the  integrity  of  the  bequest  brought 
him  into  collision  with  the  authorities  of  both  institutions.  He 
made  a  strong  appeal  to  the  Board  of  Overseers  of  Harvard 
College  to  reject  the  project  of  handing  over  three  fifths  of  the 
income  of  the  McKay  gift  to  the  Institute.  In  this  appeal  he 
set  forth  in  clear  language  the  disadvantages  to  the  Lawrence 
Scientific  School  and  the  University  which  would  follow  such 
a  division  of  the  fund,  as  well  as  the  moral  breach  of  the  tes- 
tator's purposes;  for  the  carrying  out  of  which  he  had  given  his 
personal  pledge.  In  fact,  he  said,  it  was  mainly  because  of  Mr. 
McKay's  request  that  he  had  accepted  the  post  of  Dean. 

Besides  the  immediate  question  involved,  he  believed  that 
other  important  problems  of  the  higher  education  would  be 
decided  by  the  issue  of  the  contention ;  foremost  among  these 
were  "the  respective  rights,"  as  he  phrased  it,  "of  the  three 
estates  of  the  School  realm  —  the  Corporation,  the  Faculty, 
and  the  Board  of  Overseers."  What  gave  special  emphasis  to 
this  question  of  authority  was  the  statement  that  the  decision 
on  the  "merger"  project  would  be  determined  by  the  Corpora- 
tion and  Board  of  Overseers,  who  would  be  pleased  to  hear  the 
opinion  of  the  Faculty,  but,  whatever  the  opinion  might  be, 
it  could  have  no  authority  whatever.  In  the  address  already 
alluded  to  Mr.  Shaler  called  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  Fac- 
ulty was  steadily  losing  power. 

The  vote  of  the  Corporation  of  the  Institute  and  the  action  so  far  had  by 
the  Corporation  of  Harvard  College  will  mean,  if  it  be  not  checked,  that  the 
shaping  of  our  great  schools  is  not  hereafter  to  be  in  the  hands  of  experts 
in  the  science  and  art  of  education,  but  will  be  determined  by  men  who  are 
necessarily  without  other  than  the  amateur's  smattering  of  such  learning. 
It  means  that  institutions  having  for  their  province  the  development  of  ex- 
perts and  the  extension  of  their  high  functions  on  which  civilization  depends 
shall  in  their  very  government  deny  the  essential  value  of  such  training. 

The  meaning  of  this  action  goes  yet  further :  it  makes  a  radical  change  in  the 
nature  of  these  trust-keepers  of  our  public  schools.  Gifts  bestowed  upon 


THE  "MERGER"  CONTROVERSY  389 

them  have  been  made  not  to  trustees  as  bodies  separate  from  the  institution 
as  a  whole,  but  with  the  tacit  supposition  that  the  faculties  were  integral 
parts  of  the  structure,  able  to  make  themselves  felt  in  the  important  questions 
of  education.  To  assume  that  the  one  board,  because  it  has  the  legal  power, 
may  suppress  or  transfer  or  otherwise  profoundly  alter  the  constitution,  is  to 
change  the  position  of  these  schools  in  our  societies.  If  these  self-renewing 
bodies  of  business  men  are  to  be  the  sole  keepers  and  administrators  of  these 
trusts,  stolidly  uninfluenced  by  the  protests  of  the  other  and  more  vitally 
important  estates,  the  Faculty  and  the  Alumni,  it  cannot  be  expected  that 
they  will  hereafter  command  the  confidence  of  those  who  would  send  their 
good  purposes  on  from  generation  to  generation. 

I  have  thus  briefly,  and  most  inadequately,  suggested  some  of  the  consid- 
erations which  are  to  be  discussed  in  the  debate  which  is  before  us.  You  see 
that  they  go  far  and  concern  questions  of  great  pith  and  moment.  ...  I 
beg  of  you  and  all  the  participants  herein  that  the  debate  be  kept  to  the  high 
level  of  its  importance.  We  need  always  have  in  mind  the  fact  that  those 
who  are  opposed  to  us  are  ardent,  even  as  we,  for  the  betterment  of  the 
institutions  which  they  love  even  as  we  love  them.  .  .  .  We  are  brethren, 
strong  for  the  betterment  of  our  common  house:  let  us  remember  that  we 
have  in  the  end  to  dwell  together  under  its  roof  and  abide  in  its  memories. 
This  counsel  of  perfection  need  not  lessen,  however,  the  energy  with  which 
we  resist  to  the  uttermost  what  we  hold  to  be  evil. 

The  controversy  which  followed  the  "merger"  proposition 
was  bitter  and  determined,  for  upon  its  result  Mr.  Shaler  be- 
lieved hung  the  life  or  death  of  the  School  which  he  had  labored 
so  earnestly  to  advance.  It  called  forth  on  his  part  a  vast  ex- 
penditure of  force  and  emotion ;  for  when  he  once  espoused  a 
cause  he  threw  himself  into  it  with  passionate  devotion.  There 
is  no  doubt  that  this  trying  episode,  this  opposition  to  his  most 
cherished  and  disinterested  schemes  for  the  development  of 
the  Lawrence  Scientific  School,  told  seriously  upon  his  health. 
While  petty  squabblings  bored  him,  a  good  big  fight  aroused  all 
the  powers  of  his  mind ;  bold  and  resourceful  in  debate,  he  fought 
his  battles  with  tremendous  and  unflagging  verve.  In  these 
intellectual  encounters,  mercilessly  hard  as  he  hit  his  opponents, 
he  hit  fair,  and  for  this  reason,  although  in  the  course  of  his  life 
he  had  many  antagonists,  he  had  few  enemies,  his  great-hearted 
manliness  bearing  down  the  hostility  disagreement  usually 


390  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

engenders.  All  these  qualities  he  showed  in  this  particular 
controversy,  upholding  with  inexhaustible  fervor  the  material 
advantages  and  the  moral  right  of  his  cause. 

When  at  last  the  legal  decision  was  delivered  which  made 
the  sale  of  the  land  owned  by  the  Institute  in  Boston  invalid, 
and  thus  put  a  stop  to  the  merger  scheme,  the  controversy 
ended.  Since  the  gift  about  which  it  had  arisen  was  left  to 
go  where  it  was  intended  to  go,  Mr.  Shaler  in  a  measure  was 
satisfied  with  the  result,  although  he  would  have  preferred  to 
have  the  question  fought  to  the  end  on  its  ethical  merits. 
After  this  disturbing  controversy,  during  which  he  had  been 
warmly  upheld  by  a  large  number  of  his  colleagues  and  Har- 
vard graduates,  as  well  as  by  a  part  of  the  Technology  fac- 
ulty and  alumni,  he  subsided  to  a  state  of  quiescence  and  was 
disposed  to  forget  the  unpleasant  features  of  the  debate  as 
well  as  the  sometime  feeling  of  personal  injustice ;  this  it  was 
possible  for  him  to  do,  for  while  he  was  capable  of  being  in- 
tensely angry,  he  could  be  neither  sullen  nor  resentful.  Yet, 
although  many  of  the  objects  he  had  labored  to  bring  about  in 
the  development  of  the  School  were  accomplished,  or  were  on 
the  way  to  fulfilment  before  the  end  came,  it  was  pathetic 
that  so  near  the  close  of  his  long  and  untiring  service  to  the 
University  untoward  circumstances  should  have  made  him 
feel  that  perhaps  after  all  he  had  built  his  life's  work  on  insecure 
foundations. 

The  administrative  work  of  the  Lawrence  Scientific  School 
was  laborious  to  the  last  degree.  It  called  for  unremitting  at- 
tention, and  was  constantly  present  to  Mr.  Shaler's  mind,  urg- 
ing him  to  seek  in  every  direction  opportunities  for  its  expan- 
sion. To  do  justice  to  this  one  phase  of  his  activities  would 
require  more  space  than  can  be  allotted  here.  It  may  be  said, 
however,  that  his  object  was,  as  far  as  possible,  to  incarnate  in 
the  students  the  ideals  of  the  original  founders  of  the  Lawrence 
School,  "who,"  he  said,  "were  the  first  educators  in  America, 
if  not  in  the  world,  to  set  up  the  ideal  of  the  man  of  enlarged 


IMPORTANCE  OF  LIBERAL  CULTURE         391 

and  enlarging  training  made  as  far  whole  in  all  his  parts  as 
a  good  general  education  could  make  him,  that  he  might 
have  adequate  foundation  on  which  to  build  his  professional 
work."  With  this  end  in  view  he  diversified,  grouped,  and  so 
arranged  the  courses  of  instruction  that  they  might  not  only 
yield  a  thorough  technical  training  in  the  different  branches  of 
practical  knowledge,  but  give  also  a  share  of  culture  —  at  least 
a  taste  for  the  humanistic  side  of  learning  which  might  be  a 
haunting  memory,  a  memory  that  would  perhaps  deliver  men 
from  a  sordid  and  too  exclusive  devotion  to  business.  That  his 
aim  was  not  wholly  without  result,  that  there  was  at  times  the 
sting  of  conscience,  if  not  the  benefit  of  conduct,  is  shown  by 
the  following  anecdote,  which  Mr.  Shaler  liked  to  hear. 

It  so  happened  that  once  while  waiting  with  a  friend  in  the 
corridor  of  a  New  York  hotel  I  was  introduced  in  a  casual 
way  (neither  one  catching  the  other's  name  and  I  wearing 
rather  a  thick  veil)  to  a  gentleman  whose  appearance  denoted 
worldly  prosperity.  A  moment  after,  my  friend  remarked  to 
him,  "I'm  sorry  to  hear,  old  fellow,  you  are  not  feeling  well  — 
overworked,  I  suppose?"  "How  is  it  possible,"  I  interposed, 
"to  be  otherwise  than  overworked  in  a  place  like  this?"  "That's 
just  it,"  said  the  stranger.  "I'm  ashamed  to  confess  it,  but 
one  does  get  submerged  in  the  current.  Yet  there  was  a  time 
when  I  had  other  ideals.  I  remember  once  when  I  was  a  student 
at  Harvard,  now  a  good  many  years  ago,  while  I  was  calling  at 
the  house  of  a  friend  the  talk  turned  upon  the  possibility  of 
combining  business  with  some  form  of  liberal  culture,  and  as 
an  illustration  of  the  possibility,  Sir  John  Lubbock,  the  success- 
ful banker  and  man  of  science,  was  cited.  Listening  to  the  con- 
versation I  then  resolved,  young  and  vacant-minded  as  I  was, 
that  I  would  cling  to  some  intellectual  interest  outside  of  the 
field  of  money-getting ;  but  alas  "  —  and  he  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders. "At  whose  house  was  it?"  I  asked.  "At  Professor 
Shaler's;  that  kind  of  thing  was  a  hobby  of  his,  you  know. 
And  it  was  his  wife  who  lent  me  the  Life  of  Lubbock." 


392  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

But  it  was  not  alone  for  the  benefit  of  his  own  department 
that  Mr.  Shaler  strove  to  find  the  right  education.  He  also  took 
an  active  share  in  the  discussion  of  every  question  that  came 

^before  the  faculty.  His  desire  that  young  men  should  get  all 
that  the  College  had  to  give,  either  by  voluntary  appropriation 
or  by  a  process  of  absorption,  that,  indeed,  no  chance  of  time 
or  place  be  lost  for  broadening  their  minds  on  every  side,  led 
him  to  oppose  the  three-year  degree.  Another  burning  ques- 
tion in  its  time  was  the  elective  system ;  to  this  he  was  also,  in  a 
measure,  hostile.  Doubting  the  wisdom  of  allowing  youths  un- 
restricted range  in  the  choice  of  courses,  he  advocated  instead 
the  group  system  as  illustrated  by  the  four-year  programmes 

i  in  the  Lawrence  Scientific  School. 

In  regard  to  the  part  he  played  at  faculty-meetings,  where 
all  these  questions  were  deliberated  upon,  Dean  Briggs  writes : 
"...  In  all  the  years  in  which  I  have  been  a  member  of  the 
faculty,  I  have  seen  no  one  so  alertly  interested  in  every  sub- 
ject that  came  up :  nor  indeed  have  I  ever  met  a  man  so  quickly 
and  so  warmly  interested  in  every  person  and  everything, 
great  or  small.  Though  there  are  many  of  us,  our  meetings 
often  seem  entirely  different  without  him."  Professor  Wendell 
likewise  has  been  good  enough  to  set  down  his  memories  of  his 
late  colleague  and  of  the  spirit  he  carried  into  that  same  king- 
dom of  debate.  This  is  what  he  says :  — 

BOSTON,  November  10, 1907. 

During  these  past  days,  when  I  have  been  trying  to  gather  together  my 
memories  of  Professor  Shaler  in  the  faculty,  I  have  found  myself  more  and 
more  aware  of  how  deeply  my  relations  with  him  there  were  at  once  of  the 
essence  of  our  friendship  and  among  the  chief  reasons  why  faculty  life 
often  seems  to  me  less  professional  than  human.  It  is  human,  no  doubt,  in 
a  very  comprehensive  way:  it  has  its  quarrels  and  its  tribulations,  as  well 
as  its  joys  and  kindnesses:  the  very  familiarity  of  it  sometimes  makes  its 
importance  seem  to  dwindle.  But,  reviewed  through  a  vista  of  years,  it 
shows  itself,  like  the  student  life  which  came  before  it,  a  beautiful  memory 
of  fellowship. 

The  whole  heart  of  this  fellowship  Professor  Shaler  embodied   beyond 


PROFESSOR  WENDELL'S  MEMORIES          393 

any  one  else.  My  own  experience  can  hardly  have  been  exceptional.  It  was 
in  1884,  I  think,  that,  most  unexpectedly  to  myself,  they  gave  me  an  in- 
structorship  without  limit  of  time.  This  made  me  a  member  of  the  College 
faculty  —  a  body  of  which,  until  that  time,  my  impressions  had  been  the  not 
completely  cordial  ones  prevalent  among  the  students  of  thirty  years  ago. 
I  shall  never  forget  the  immense  contrast  of  two  consequent  greetings. 
One  of  our  elder  members,  with  whom  I  had  long  had  some  manner  of  ac- 
quaintance, expressed  the  candid  opinion  that  although  I  had  now  a  right 
to  attend  faculty-meetings  it  was  highly  improbable  that  they  would  have 
any  interest  for  me.  Professor  Shaler,  whom  I  had  never  really  known  before, 
and  whom  I  supposed  hardly  to  have  known  me  even  by  name,  came  straight 
toward  me,  the  moment  he  first  caught  sight  of  me.  He  held  out  his  hand, 
with  his  own  wonderful  heartiness,  and  said  some  word  of  his  gladness 
that  I  was  "one  of  us."  It  was  almost,  if  not  quite,  the  next  Sunday  when 
you  both  welcomed  me  to  your  house,  and  when  we  had  the  pleasure  of  meet- 
ing you  for  the  first  time.  I  was  not  yet  thirty  years  old.  The  self-distrust 
which  has  beset  me  all  my  life  was  at  its  strongest.  What  such  a  welcome 
meant,  at  such  a  moment,  it  is  hard  to  tell.  The  true  encouragement  of  it 
sank  deep  —  lasts  still,  stronger  than  ever  now  that  the  friendship  which 
thus  began  has  passed  into  the  ideal  security  of  almost  cloudless  memory. 

If  I  had  written  cloudless  alone,  I  should  not  have  been  quite  true  to  the 
full  humanity  of  its  breezy  vitality.  There  rises  another  memory  of  a  few 
years  later  when  in  some  discussion,  the  facts  of  which  I  have  forgotten, 
we  found  ourselves  at  variance  and  each  expressed  his  own  opinions  with 
somewhat  unparliamentary  freedom  from  reserve.  At  the  end  of  the  meeting 
where  this  incident  occurred,  he  looked  angry,  and  I  felt  so.  What  is  more, 
I  felt  so  for  two  or  three  weeks.  Then,  one  day,  his  face  broke  into  a  smile 
and  he  held  out  his  hand  again : "  Wendell,"  he  said,  if  I  remember  the  words, 
"my  head  used  to  be  as  red  as  yours."  After  that,  the  friendship  on  my 
side  stayed  more  delightful  than  ever,  through  the  years  that  have  grizzled 
my  beard  into  something  far  less  fiery  than  his  was  then.  There  were  mo- 
ments when  each  of  us  failed  to  sympathize  with  the  other;  but  they  passed 
as  swiftly  as  clouds  that  are  only  to  make  the  sunshine  warmer.  There 
was  never  a  moment  when  I  could  doubt  for  an  instant  that  we  could  always 
understand  each  other ;  nor  yet  that  if  any  need  for  friendship  should  arise, 
there  was  no  living  man  to  whom  I  would  turn  more  confidently  than  to  him. 

Once,  I  remember,  he  found  me  somewhere  in  a  state  of  obvious  depres- 
sion, and  asked  what  the  matter  was,  in  a  manner  that  might  have  seemed 
almost  blunt  if  it  had  not  been  so  obviously  kind.  "Bills,"  I  told  him  can- 
didly. For  the  moment  he  said  nothing.  A  day  or  two  later  he  came  to  me 
with  a  sympathy  fraternal  —  or  paternal,  if  you  prefer  —  in  its  fulness  of 


394  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

heart.  If  the  trouble  was  serious,  if  his  advice  or  his  resources  would  help, 
let  him  know  what  he  could  do ;  whatever  the  matter  was,  be  sure  of  him. 
The  matter  proved  in  no  wise  serious,  and  I  needed  no  help  at  all.  This  does 
not  alter  the  gratitude  which  has  glowed  ever  since  that  visit.  He  was  one 
of  whom  you  would  always  be  sure. 

Our  last  meeting  was  a  happy  climax  of  this  constantly  strengthening 
fellowship.  You  will  remember  how  I  was  giving  some  public  lectures  at 
Cambridge  —  incidents  too  frequent  there  to  invite,  in  general,  much  alertly 
cordial  interest.  At  the  close  of  one,  you  both  gave  a  little  tea-party,  in  my 
honor.  He  never  seemed  brighter,  happier,  more  his  marvellous  self  than 
he  seemed  that  winter  afternoon,  telling  with  his  vividness,  which  no  one 
else  could  quite  equal,  some  of  his  experiences  in  France.  In  the  middle  of 
his  narrative  something  called  me  away  from  him.  I  never  saw  him  again. 
But  the  last  memory  is  so  like  the  first  that  they  blend  for  all  their  twenty 
years  of  separation,  —  big,  vital,  exuberant  in  the  certainty  of  their  helpful, 
inspiring  humanity  of  friendship. 

These  personal  memories  of  mine  are  memorable  only  because  what  was 
true  of  me  was  equally  true  of  all  the  younger  colleagues  whom  he  welcomed 
throughout  the  years  of  his  service  to  Harvard.  Such  stories  could  be  told, 
such  sentiments  confessed  a  hundred  times  over.  Without  expression  of 
them,  without  insistence  on  them  as  the  chief  part  in  one's  memory  of  him 
as  a  colleague,  the  truth  of  this  memory  could  never  be  made  clear. 

The  more  obvious  phases  of  this  memory  are  almost  a  matter  of  record. 
He  prided  himself  very  justly  in  punctilious  performance  of  duty.  This 
involved  regular  attendance  at  the  meetings  of  the  faculty,  no  matter  how 
slight  the  business  in  hand ;  and  I  can  remember  hardly  a  single  night  meet- 
ing, when  he  was  in  Cambridge,  from  which  he  was  absent.  The  eagerness 
of  his  temper  and  the  alertness  of  his  mind  combined  to  make  whatever 
was  the  subject  of  discussion  appear  for  the  instant  paramount.  So  he  spoke 
oftener,  and  with  more  energy  than  most  of  us.  This  habit,  which  rather 
strengthened  with  the  years,  involved  a  somewhat  unexpected  result.  Above 
the  custom  of  most  men  he  thought  aloud  concerning  whatever  problem  was 
before  us.  His  remarks  were  often  rather  a  statement  of  his  current  mental 
process  than  an  assertion  of  his  deliberate  conclusions.  Yet,  often,  I  had 
almost  said  always,  he  expressed  himself  with  that  concrete  precision  of 
momentary  finality  which  was  so  characteristic.  In  consequence,  particularly 
during  his  later  years,  he  sometimes  impressed  the  younger  men  as  not  quite 
stable,  as  prone  to  perplexing  inconsistency.  To  understand  what  this 
really  meant  one  had  not  only  to  know  him  affectionately,  but  also  to  experi- 
ence that  gradual  enlightenment  which  reveals  the  true  office  of  debate  in 
the  Harvard  faculty.  We  are  an  unwieldy  deliberative  body  with  consider- 


RELATIONS  WITH  HIS  COLLEAGUES         395 

able  party  legislative  powers,  and  wholly  without  party  organization.  The 
incessant  speeches  there  have  very  little,  if  any,  persuasive  effect ;  they  are 
essentially  expressions  of  sincere  intelligent  opinion,  to  be  taken  at  the  mo- 
ment for  what  it  is  worth.  Each  year,  young  men  fancy  that  they  are  ad- 
mitted to  something  like  a  parliament ;  each  year,  we  older  ones  understand 
better  that  we  are  really  sitting  in  something  more  like  a  Homeric  council. 
So  the  young  fail  to  comprehend  the  old,  while  the  old  begin  to  forget  what 
their  dreams  and  fancies  were  in  the  days  when  they  were  of  the  young. 

And  yet,  through  it  all,  there  springs  to  memory  one  of  his  utterances 
there,  ten  years  ago.  Just  what  his  own  words  were  I  have  quite  forgotten, 
except  that  they  were  so  completely  characteristic  of  his  peculiar  bravery, 
and  some  note  of  just  that  spirit  was  what  I  most  wanted,  at  that  moment, 
for  the  verses  which  I  was  trying  to  write.  So  here  is  the  form  they  took  in 
my  "Ralegh  in  Guiana,"  where  —  as  I  told  him  more  than  once  —  his 
remarks  concerning  himself  and  ourselves  gave  my  forgotten  play  a  touch 
of  such  spaciousness  as  makes  inspiring  that  old  Elizabethan  world  he  loved 
so  well :  — 

"This  cloudy  monster,  circumstance, 
Affrighting  common  folk,  doth  melt  to  air 
Round  them  that,  plunging  in  her  maw,  dare  vex 
Her  misty  bowels." 

Mr.  Shaler's  heart-felt  desire  that  the  doors  of  the  Univer- 
sity should  never  be  closed  against  one  who  showed  any  dis- 
position to  profit  by  what  it  had  to  give,  sometimes  led  to  mis- 
apprehension and  the  charge  of  shielding  students  from  merited 
punishment.  The  truth  lies  in  the  manly  statement  contained 
in  the  letters  given  below  from  one  of  his  colleagues.  Although 
these  letters  belong  to  a  later  date  this  seems  in  a  way  a  fitting 
place  for  them.  The  first  is  addressed  to  President  Eliot. 

CAMBRIDGE,  Dec.  19, 1905. 

Dear  Sir:  —  In  the  brief  word  which  I  had  with  you  after  the  meeting 
to-day,  in  regard  to  the  administrative  board  of  the  Scientific  School,  I  was 
conscious  of  not  having  made  my  meaning  clear  to  you,  and  in  justice  to 
myself  I  beg  you  to  allow  me  to  add  a  word  of  explanation. 

My  object  was  merely  to  correct  one  misapprehension  in  regard  to  a  matter 
of  fact  about  which  I  have  had  ample  opportunity  for  observation.  In  the 
course  of  your  statement  to  the  faculty  you  said  that  complaints  had  come 
to  you  from  members  of  the  Board  to  the  effect  that  the  Board  had  felt 


396  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

obliged  to  admit  certain  students  this  year,  against  its  own  judgment, 
merely  on  account  of  representations  previously  made  to  those  students 
by  the  Dean  of  the  Scientific  School.  I  have  attended  every  meeting  of  the 
Board  this  year,  and  I  can  state  positively  that  no  such  case  has  arisen.  The 
Dean  has  been  exceedingly  scrupulous  to  avoid  bringing  any  pressure  of 
this  kind  on  the  Board.  I  remember  one  case  at  least  in  which  the  Board 
rejected  a  student  who  had  been  very  properly  granted  "  provisional  registra- 
tion "  by  the  Dean  —  and  this  action  met  with  absolutely  no  protest  from 
him.  In  the  only  case  in  which  the  student  was  "given  the  benefit  of  the 
doubt"  in  view  of  possible  misunderstanding  of  certain  correspondence  with 
the  Board,  the  Dean  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  case,  and  expressly  stated 
to  the  Board  that  the  Board  should  not  feel  in  the  least  hampered  in  its 
action. 

It  is  true,  Mr.  President,  that  the  Dean  often  moves  the  Board  by  elo- 
quent, sometimes  personal,  appeals  on  behalf  of  some  boy ;  but  it  is  not  true 
that  he  has  ever,  since  I  have  been  on  the  Board,  based  his  appeal  on  the 
ground  of  previous  representations  made  by  him  to  the  boy.  I  am  as  sensi- 
tive as  any  member  of  the  Board  to  the  unsatisfactory  character  of  much 
of  our  action ;  but  in  respect  to  this  one  item  of  your  statement  to  the  fac- 
ulty there  seems  to  have  been  some  misapprehension,  which  I  trust  you  will 
allow  me,  in  this  manner,  to  correct. 

Respectfully  yours,  EDWARD  HUNTINGTON. 

From  the  same  to  Professor  Shaler,  after  referring  to  the 
letter  to  President  Eliot,  a  copy  of  which  he  sent :  — 

I  am  free  to  say  that  I  have  often  disagreed  with  your  side  of  a  case  pre- 
sented to  the  Board,  and  voted  against  it;  but  the  idea  that  you  have  ever 
exercised  any  "discretion"  in  admitting  students  —  other  than  the  per- 
suasive force  of  your  own  eloquence  —  is  certainly  devoid  of  foundation,  and 
I  hope  the  President  will  pardon  my  telling  him  so.  If  the  members  of  the 
Board  have  yielded  more  often  than  we  think  we  should  have  yielded  to 
your  persuasion,  that  is  surely  our  fault  and  not  yours!  For  myself,  I  regard 
it  as  one  of  the  privileges  of  my  academic  life  to  serve  on  the  Board  under 
your  chairmanship,  where  the  fight,  when  there  is  a  fight,  is  at  least  a  fight 
in  the  open. 

Other  administrative  work  outside  the  faculty  room  and 
Mr.  Shaler 's  office,  which  was  run  with  great  system  and  punctu- 
ality, he  had  at  this  time  in  abundance.  The  different  state 
boards  (the  Highway,  the  Metropolitan  Park,  and  the  Gypsy 


HARD  WORK  AND  LONG  JOURNEYS         397 

Moth  Commissions)  upon  which  he  served,  and  the  mining  or- 
ganizations with  which  he  was  connected,  filled  up  most  of  the 
hours  left  over  from  his  college  duties. 

That  Mr.  Shaler  was  working  too  hard  at  this  period  of  his  life 
was  evident  to  those  immediately  about  him,  as  also  to  others 
who  saw  him  less  frequently.  In  a  letter  relating  to  some  ques- 
tion in  which  he  was  interested  that  had  come  up  for  discussion 
at  the  National  Academy  of  Science,  his  friend  Professor  N.  M. 
Storer  writes :  — 

May  10th,  1894. 

.  .  .  You  should  not,  ought  not,  must  not  work  so  hard.  No  one  can  say 
but  that  you  made  things  merry  in  your  time;  but  there  are  those  who  wish 
to  have  the  sweetness  long  drawn  out.  .  .  . 

Various  mining  enterprises  continued  to  call  for  long  journeys 
which,  as  we  shall  see  from  his  letters,  became  each  year  more 
burdensome.  He  writes  from  near  Cleveland :  - 

9  A.  M.,  Saturday,  '97. 

One  of  the  days  of  exile  is  over;  the  train  is  on  time  and  will,  I  trust,  put 
me  in  Newport  to-night.  And  the  evening  and  the  morning  will  be  another 
of  these  cursed  days. 

I  had  a  fairly  comfortable  night,  a  lot  of  baby  music  in  the  next  section, 
but  it  seemed  rather  familiar  and  domestic.  It  rained  into  my  window  and 
made  me  sloppy,  but  the  air  was  fresh  and  even  the  water  refreshing.  This 
morning  the  land  is  a  deluge  and  streams  hurrying  about  in  a  crazy  way, 
apparently  bewildered  in  their  new-found  freedom.  The  grass  is  growing  and 
the  wild  ducks  are  going  north.  The  people  are  waxing  grimier,  and  now 
and  then  an  old  hat  in  the  window ;  all  of  which  means  that  I  am  getting  on 
towards  the  sunny  South. 

Near  CHICAGO  (on  the  road  to  VIRGINIA,  MONTANA). 

One  more  of  the  days  is  done.  It  is  the  same  old  West  in  summer,  hot,  dry, 
and  dusty,  rich  in  all  good  things,  but  a  weary  land  to  the  wayfarer.  I  have 
been  paying  for  my  continued  spree  with  coffee,  but  a  bit  of  starvation 
promises  to  set  me  right  again.  Mr.  B.  is  with  me;  as  he  is  a  silent  man  I 
have  some  rest. 

Near  SALT  LAKE  CITY. 

This  is  the  fourth  day  of  this  dusty  furnace.  Since  yesterday  noon  it  has 
been  a  monotonous  desert,  as  hard  as  original  sin.  Here  and  there  a  patch 


398     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

of  Mormons  and  of  cultivation,  or  rather  crop-getting,  for  the  Mormon  is 
only  a  higher  kind  of  Digger  Indian. 

The  thermometer  has  been  near  a  hundred  every  day,  but  we  have  kept 
pretty  well  in  a  dirty,  miserable  way.  The  time  to  come  is  June.  Page  joined 
us  at  Denver  and  goes  to  Virginia.  He  is  the  same  dear  boy,  though  he  is 
becoming  gray-headed  and  solemn.  .  .  .  Fine  as  these  mountains  are,  they 
are  very  mechanical  things,  no  grace  in  them.  At  this  season  the  land  is  a 
dusty  circle  in  the  Inferno. 

Junction  near  VIRGINIA,  MONTANA,  July  30, 1897. 

I  find  that  I  stand  the  work  well,  better  than  do  my  companions,  who 
appear  to  suffer  from  the  heat.  The  conditions  are  rude,  but  there  is  enough 
to  eat  of  a  rough  kind,  and  a  chance  for  a  bath  in  the  ditch,  good  mountain 
snow  water.  A  splendid  landscape,  but  one  that  is  curiously  uninviting  from 
the  lack  of  the  human  quality. 

BUTTE,  MONTANA,  July  26, 1898. 

I  am  pretty  well  through  with  the  blessed  underground,  with  its  dirty 
business,  and  am  now  doing  the  surface,  trying  to  extract  information  from 
the  [word  illegible]  of  dust  which  wraps  this  wealth  in.  The  place  is  a  dry 
hell,  but  far  away  are  the  snow-tipped  mountains.  .  .  .  The  task  is  interest- 
ing, so  too,  in  a  way,  are  the  people.  A  Britisher  who  is  my  guide  is  a  good 
fellow.  The  mass  is  Irish  and  the  civilization  inexpressibly  so.  Every  shanty 
has  its  back  yard  in  the  front  street.  A  priest-ridden,  labor-ridden,  politics- 
ridden  horde  of  laborious  vagabonds. 

CAMBRIDGE,  1899. 

...  I  had  to  go  yesterday  morning  to  Nashua.  This  promises  to  be  my 
only  divagation  until  we  go  to  the  island.  .  .  .  We  are  waiting  the  arrival 
of  the  Sunday  afternoon  contingent.  We  hope  there  will  not  be  many  to  be 
disappointed  by  your  absence. 

Later.  The  people  have  come  and  gone,  a  bare  dozen.  The  new  were  a 
lecturer  on  irrigation  from  the  West,  an  able  man.  Another,  an  English- 
woman, a  patent  crank.  She  is  not  permanent.  And  a  gentleman  from  South 
America.  ...  I  would  there  were  some  news  to  tell  you,  but  the  town  is 
like  us  in  being  dull. 

Friday,  1899. 

After  lecture  I  had  to  go  to  town,  to  see  McKay  on  business ;  to  vary  my 
walk,  I  came  back  through  Charlestown,  —  a  rather  long  way  —  so  I  am 
tired,  having  had  no  rest.  I  shall,  therefore,  take  the  sleep  cure  upstairs  early. 

There  is  no  news  except  that  the  I s'  boy,  I  have  been  looking  after, 


WRITING  POETRY  AS  A  RECREATION       399 

seems  to  have  a  rather  better  chance  of  life,  and  there  is  a  lunch  at  the 
Pickerings'  to-morrow.  I  shall  go,  to  meet  Prof.  Young  of  Princeton. 

The  Brooks  House  "tea"  seemed  more  successful  than  the  last,  more  peo- 
ple and  merrier. 

As  the  years  sped  on,  in  spite  of  remonstrances  Mr.  Shaler 
kept  up  his  activities  to  the  full  extent  of  his  powers.  In  the 
hours  left  over  from  his  prescribed  tasks,  to  be  sure,  he  took  a 
share  of  recreation,  —  as  much,  at  least,  as  he  wanted.  Indeed, 
it  was  only  an  imaginary  line  that  divided  his  work  from  his 
play.  This  consisted  now,  as  always,  in  long  walks,  and  visits, 
sometimes;  concerts  also,  but  the  theatre  rarely.  His  chief est 
delight  was  found  in  writing  poetry. 

The  return  to  this  ideal  realm,  which  he  had  so  long  forsaken, 
was  a  happy  inspiration.  It  gave  a  momentary  pause  to  per- 
formance; sweetened  his  life  and  opened  up  a  retreat  from 
discouragements  and  vexations.  Even  during  the  "merger" 
controversy,  which  stirred  him  profoundly,  he  was  still  able  to 
create  his  own  Utopias.  In  his  work-room  in  the  third  story, 
away  from  interruption,  he  could  throw  himself  at  will  into  an- 
other world.  There  his  battle  with  dulness  and  the  common- 
place was  over ;  the  irksome  tasks  of  life,  if  done  at  all,  were  done 
vicariously.  There,  too,  he  could  conjure  back  lost  loyalties  and 
virtues  and  all  manner  of  nobleness;  not  that  he  was  a  corn- 
plainer  of  men  or  of  the  present  times :  in  fact,  he  was  rather 
persuaded  that  the  golden  age  lay  not  behind  but  before  us. 
In  this  shelter  from  the  din  and  stir  of  competitive  life,  as 
he  said,  he  could  consume  his  own  smoke  —  that  is,  get  rid 
of  nervousness.  As  an  aid  to  this  process  his  long-stemmed 
pipe  was  an  invaluable  resource;  also,  at  times,  a  few  minutes' 
sleep.  Half  an  hour  spent  in  this  peaceful  atmosphere  was 
usually  sufficient  to  compose  his  mind  and  smooth  out  of  his 
face  any  lines  of  irritation. 

Not  the  least  of  his  cares  after  1902  was  Mr.  McKay's  un- 
happy physical  condition.  Besides  the  need  for  business  con- 
ferences with  him,  the  old  gentleman  leaned  upon  Mr.  Shaler  in 


400     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

many  ways,  and  not  infrequently  summoned  him  by  telegraph 
at  most  inconvenient  seasons  —  at  the  end  of  a  hard  lecture 
day,  or  of  other  appointments  of  a  taxing  nature.  These  hur- 
ried visits  to  Newport  were  exceedingly  depressing,  for,  with  a 
failing  body,  Mr.  McKay  could  not  be  other  than  a  devitalizing 
companion.  At  these  meetings  his  mind  grasped  eagerly  at 
business  details,  or  dwelt  upon  the  future  scope  of  the  Lawrence 
Scientific  School.  To  talk  about  such  outside  matters  freed  him 
for  the  moment  from  the  gloomy  consideration  of  his  decrepit 
state. 

Each  year,  Mr.  Shaler  hoped  to  break  away  and  give  himself 
a  rest,  but  the  seasons,  as  they  came  and  went,  brought  ever  new 
responsibilities,  so  that  the  time  never  seemed  just  right  for 
taking  the  much-needed  holiday.  As  the  following  letter  shows, 
he  thought  seriously  of  going  to  Europe  in  1901. 

Sept.  22,  1900. 

Dear  old  Shaler:  —  It 's  either  post-cards  or  nothing  with  me,  so  you  will 
excuse  the  shabbiness.  I  have  thought  of  you  almost  daily  since  July  15th, 
1899,  when  I  left  home,  and  longed  for  your  inspiring  presence,  as  the  myriad- 
minded  and  multiple-personalitied  embodiment  of  all  academic  and  extra- 
academic  Kenntnisse  and  Gemuths  bewegagen.  For  Heaven's  sake  keep  alive 
till  I  get  back,  and  don't  embark  on  your  own  sabbatical  year  just  as  I  shall 
be  returning,  early  I  hope  next  summer.  To  stop  the  gap,  I  send  you  this 
greeting  at  the  beginning  of  the  New  Academic  Year,  which  I  hope  will  be 
replete  with  happiness  and  activity  for  you  and  all  of  yours.  It's  a  good 
thing  to  have  a  place  to  belong  to,  and  not  to  leave  it  for  too  long.  I  regret 
to  say  that  I  am  still  laid  on  the  shelf  and  don't  know  when  they'll  take  me 
down  to  use  me.  Send  me  a  post-card  some  time.  Warmest  regards  to  Mrs. 
Shaler. 

Yours  sincerely,  WM.  JAMES. 

Although  utterly  indifferent  to  many  of  the  honors  that  men 
so  eagerly  strive  for,  —  such,  for  instance,  as  honorary  degrees 
and  offices  in  learned  societies,  —  indeed  shirking  the  latter 
whenever  possible,  —  his  heart  was  warmed  by  the  storm  of 
applause  from  students  and  visitors  that  greeted  him  when,  at 
the  Commencement  exercises  in  1903,  President  Eliot  conferred 


PORTRAIT  OF  MR.  SHALER  BY  JOSEPH  DE  CAMP 


OF   THE 

UNIVERSir 

OF 


PUBLIC  SPEAKING  401 

upon  him  the  Harvard  degree  of  LL.  D.,  with  his  usual  felicitous 
characterization  addressing  him  as  "naturalist  and  humanist." 

At  all  times  Mr.  Shaler  was  flooded  with  invitations,  especially 
during  these  later  years,  to  speak  at  colleges,  schools,  institutes, 
societies, and  clubs;  but,  though  the  list  of  his  addresses  is  long, 
aside  from  subjects  relating  to  his  profession,  touching  world 
interests  as  divergent  as  those  which  appealed  to  the  Congress 
of  Religions  and  the  Military  Historical  Society  of  Massachu- 
setts, only  a  comparatively  small  number  of  these  invitations 
did  he  ever  accept.  Speaking  in  strange  places  and  before 
miscellaneous  audiences  was  never  agreeable  to  him.  On  the 
occasions  when  he  attended  the  Harvard  Club  dinners  in  dif- 
ferent cities  he  always  said  afterwards  that  he  had  had  a  "good 
time"  with  the  boys. 

Twenty-one  years  after  he  gave  his  first  course  of  lectures 
before  the  Lowell  Institute,  Mr.  Shaler  delivered  his  last 
(1902-03),  on  the  subject  of  "Dynamic  Geology."  All  of  these 
elements  of  work  and  play  must  in  a  general  way  enter  into  the 
picture  we  would  give  of  the  busy  years  included  within  the 
dates  of  this  chapter. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

LAST   YEARS 

1904-1905 

IT  had  been  nearly  twenty-three  years  since  Mr.  Shaler  had  had 
other  than  the  briefest  vacations;  he  therefore  resolved  to 
take  a  "sabbatical,"  and  early  in  January,  1904,  set  sail  on  one 
of  the  Mediterranean  steamers  for  Egypt.  He  was  very  tired 
and  longed  to  rest  his  eyes  upon  new  scenes  in  regions  that  he 
knew  only  through  his  readings.  He  was  not,  as  a  rule,  a  good 
sailor,  but  the  seas  were  tranquil  and  he  reached  his  destination 
without  much  physical  discomfort.  Knowing  as  he  did  its  geo- 
logical and  human  history,  he  found  every  bit  of  land  that  he 
passed  in  the  Mediterranean  mentally  stimulating.  The  landing, 
however,  at  Alexandria,  that  ancient  seat  of  schools  and  philoso- 
phies, was  such  as  to  banish  all  feeling  of  reverence.  The  scuffle 
among  dragomans  and  boatmen,  the  sort  of  Donnybrook  Fair 
at  the  station  where  belated  luggage  was  weighed  and  mislaid, 
the  general  demoralization  of  officials,  a  legacy  doubtless  of  the 
"unspeakable  Turk's "  misrule,  filled  him  alternately  with  mirth 
and  indignation.  Nor  was  he  specially  moved  at  Cairo.  The 
grandeur  of  the  Pharaohs  was  veiled  behind  the  veneer  of 
Western  civilization.  Even  the  sight  of  the  Pyramids  failed  to 
arouse  any  great  emotion  in  him.  Somehow  he  did  not  seem 
able  to  get  en  rapport  with  these  aged  landmarks  of  vanished 
aspirations.  Indeed  the  antiquity  of  Egypt,  which  to  most  per- 
sons is  so  overwhelming,  to  the  naturalist,  whose  considerations 
are  based  upon  eons,  —  from  eternity  onward  to  eternity, — is 
of  no  great  moment ;  a  few  dynasties  more  or  less  add  little  to 
his  conception  of  the  element  of  time. 
The  whole  life  of  the  past  as  represented  in  the  temples  and 


VISIT  TO  EGYPT  403 

symbols  seemed  alien  to  Mr.  Shaler's  spirit.  Rameses  the  Great, 
bragging  his  way  down  through  the  centuries  in  stone  and 
graven  images,  became  actually  repulsive  to  him.  Yet  when  he 
afterward  gazed  upon  the  well-preserved  face  in  the  Museum 
at  Cairo  and  observed  its  strong  resemblance  to  the  portrait 
busts  of  Caesar,  he  was  more  inclined  to  take  him  at  his  own 
exalted  valuation.  Nevertheless  there  were  times,  while  trav- 
elling up  the  Nile,  when  he  regained  his  imaginative  power  of 
projecting  himself  sympathetically  into  far-away  scenes  and 
transactions.  The  burnished  mountains  that  had  melted  into 
the  sands  of  the  desert,  the  swarthy  fellah  at  his  immemorial 
task  of  lifting  water  from  the  Nile,  in  his  changeless  work  and 
attitude  to  Mr.  Shaler's  eye  apathetic  link  in  Egypt's  immutable 
chain  of  custom,  the  ancient  idols  and  superstitions,  —  all  set 
his  fancy  spinning.  The  story  told  of  the  weeping  and  wailing  of 
men  and  women  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile  when  the  mummies  of 
their  great  kings,  disturbed  in  their  long  rest,  were  conveyed 
down  the  river  to  Cairo,  was  a  picture  of  spiritual  desolation 
that  lingered  in  his  mind. 

The  great  irrigation  works  that  the  English  were  constructing 
interested  him  immensely,  while  the  geology  of  the  banks  of  the 
Nile  and  the  neighborhood  of  Cairo  offered  a  profitable  field  for 
study.  The  results  of  his  observations  he  afterward  made  use 
of  in  his  lectures  at  Cambridge. 

Yet  in  spite  of  a  lack  of  enthusiasm  for  the  land  of  Egypt, 
the  slight  touch  with  its  spiritual  motives  gained  in  some  weeks 
of  travel  could  not  fail  to  affect  one  of  his  receptive  nature.  The 
ages  during  which  these  people  warred  with  death,  seeking  sal- 
vation of  the  memory  of  the  individual  to  himself  or  his  kind, 
was  to  him  exceedingly  impressive.  Under  the  influence  of  this 
persuasive  and  elaborate  effort  at  self-perpetuation  he  began 
while  there  to  write  his  autobiography. 

Greece  affected  him  very  differently  from  Egypt.  It  was  like  a 
smiling  return  to  an  intellectual  home.  He  had  much  the  same 
feeling  that  a  graduate  has  when  he  goes  back  to  his  beloved 


404     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

Harvard.  For  while  by  accomplishment  Mr.  Shaler  was  no 
classicist  he  had  to  the  core  the  humanistic  spirit.  Moreover,  he 
was  thoroughly  familiar  with  Greek  history.  As  a  boy  he  had 
studied  Grote  from  beginning  to  end,  had  made  notes  and  ab- 
stracts of  the  "History,"  so  that  every  inch  of  the  land  and  the 
deeds  that  had  been  enacted  thereon  were  known  to  him.  His 
Xenophon  he  knew  almost  by  heart  and  the  great  tragedians 
he  had  read  in  translations. 

,  While  at  Athens  he  spent  a  part  of  every  day  at  the  Parthenon. 
The  weather  was  fine  so  that  he  could  sit  indefinitely,  taking  in 
from  every  point  of  view  the  beauty  of  its  surroundings.  The 
study  of  the  Parthenon  was  not  wholly  an  artistic  exercise. 
The  fallen  pillars  that  strewed  the  ground  suggested  a  practical 
engineering  feat  for  Harvard  men.  German  archaeologists  had 
seen  to  the  lifting  and  putting  in  place,  with  considerable  ex- 
penditure of  time  and  money,  it  was  said,  of  several  of  these  col- 
umns. From  his  examinations  and  from  all  that  he  could  learn 
of  the  difficulties  of  the  task,  he  was  convinced  that  it  was  not 
beyond  the  power  of  Scientific  School  students — of  an  Archi- 
medes of  the  West  —  to  reinstate  quickly  and  economically,  by 
the  use  of  labor-saving  devices,  these  dismembered  parts  of  the 
great  temple.  Firmly  persuaded  of  their  capacity  for  this  work, 
he  resolved  upon  his  return  to  America  to  put  the  case  before 
some  rich  man  in  the  hope  that  he  might  make  the  gracious  deed 
possible.  So  many  other  matters,  however,  pressed  upon  him 
when  he  returned,  that  it  is  doubtful  whether  he  ever  made  any 
effort  in  this  direction. 

In  modern  —  fatally  modern  —  Athens,  where  the  small 
present  dwindles  beneath  the  weight  of  a  great  past,  it  was  often 
difficult  to  lead  the  dual  life  that  its  historic  associations  called 
for.  Mr.  Shaler  would  sometimes  stop  abruptly  and  say: 
"Perhaps  it  was  at  this  very  corner  that  old  Socrates  stood  and 
asked  his  vexing  questions.  Bless  his  ugly  mug!"  Or,  "Per- 
haps it  was  here  that  the  so-called  '  vain  and  chattering  Aris- 
totle' looked  about  him  with  the  piercing  eye  of  inquiry."  It 


GREECE  AND  SICILY  405 

was  thus  that  Athens  was  repopulated  and  that  the  naturalist 
by  keeping  him  well  in  mind  paid  his  long-accumulated  debt  to 
the  greatest  of  all  scientists.  Other  torchbearers  he  kept  in  sight 
as  he  wandered  in  and  out  among  the  streets  of  Athens.  Mr. 
Shaler  became  deeply  engaged  in  building  up  to  the  mind's  eye 
out  of  their  ruins  a  picture  of  the  ancient  splendors  of  temple, 
Areopagus,  and  theatre;  succeeding  in  an  unusual  degree,  for 
the  constructive  imagination  so  constantly  exercised  in  the 
field  of  natural  phenomenon  served  him  in  this  world  of  sus- 
pended art  and  human  glory. 

Deviating  from  the  usual  line  of  travel,  Mr.  Shaler  visited  the 
Peloponnesus  and  other  parts  of  Greece,  seeing  enough  of  its 
charm  to  make  him  wish  to  return  and  go  all  over  it  at  his 
leisure.  Indeed,  he  thought  seriously  of  a  camping-expedition 
under  the  guidance  of  Miss  Stone,  the  archaeologist,  who  already 
had  smoothed  the  way  and  made  light  much  that  otherwise 
would  have  been  left  in  darkness.  With  charts  in  hand  they 
studied  out  the  details  of  ancient  structure.  As  for  the  new 
ones,  he  was  able  to  judge  for  himself;  the  new  Stadium — built 
of  dazzling  marble,  the  offering  of  a  native  who  beyond  the 
boundaries  of  his  own  country  had  prospered  well  —  Mr.  Shaler 
frequented,  sometimes  making  comparisons  that  were  not  alto- 
gether favorable  to  the  Stadium  at  Cambridge.  The  public 
spirit  of  the  Greeks  was  a  surprise  and  a  pleasure  to  him,  for 
he  was  not  prepared  to  find  an  almost  American  generosity  in 
the  giving  of  libraries,  colleges,  and  other  buildings  for  general 
use. 

From  Greece  to  Corfu,  thence  to  Naples,  to  Sicily,  and  finally 
a  visit  to  Rome,  were  included  in  this  itinerary,  ^tna  was  the 
chief  call  to  Sicily.  At  his  earlier  visit,  more  than  twenty  years 
before,  Mr.  Shaler  had  given  up  the  journey  because  of  the  snow- 
sheet  on  the  volcano,  and  even  now  in  the  month  of  April  its 
cone  was  white ;  but  the  lower  portions  and  the  extinct  craters 
were  uncovered  for  observation,  so  that  he  was  able  to  make 
the  long-coveted  study  of  this  great  mountain.  While  at 


406     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

Taormina  he  got  much  pleasure  from  long  walks  up  the  sheer 
mountain-sides  on  roads  that  tapered  off  into  zigzag  footpaths, 
seldom  trod.  He  was  loath  to  turn  away  from  this  paradise  of 
natural  beauty,  this  library  of  human  history  where  almost 
every  tongue  in  its  time  had  been  heard ;  but  each  day  the  snow- 
cap  on  ^Etna  was  growing  less,  the  grateful  warmth  had  turned 
to  heat,  and  the  body  had  begun  to  feel  a  warning  languor.  He 
therefore  turned  his  face  to  the  North. 

At  Rome  Mr.  Shaler  began  again  his  old  habit  of  long  tramps 
into  the  surrounding  country.  More  than  once  he  went  to  Rocca 
di  Papa  to  study  its  geology,  its  fortress,  and  Hannibal's  old 
camping-ground;  to  Monte  Cavo;  to  Nemi  and  Subiaco,  and 
there  met  good  company  at  the  albergo,  where  he  and  a  Catholic 
bishop  exchanged  ideas  on  the  cardinal  virtues,  Mr.  Shaler 
paying  his  tribute  in  coin  to  the  chief est  of  all,  charity :  its  sym- 
bol at  the  moment  a  new  church  just  then  mounting  heaven- 
wards in  the  bishop's  diocese.  Other  points  of  interest  tempted 
him  abroad.  Probing  for  the  heart  of  humanity,  he  hobnobbed 
with  the  simple  people,  ate  with  them  in  the  village  trattoria, 
talked  with  them  on  their  own  level  of  interests,  and  trusted 
them  in  every  way.  And  yet  for  all  that,  he  fell  among  thieves, 
and  a  handsome  gold  watch  and  chain  which  he  valued  was 
stolen  from  him.  Still,  it  must  be  said,  this  happened  not  in  the 
country,  but  in  Rome  itself. 

The  city  had  little  persistent  attraction  for  him.  "The  pot- 
shards  of  a  great  world  flung  around  "  were  too  closely  pressed  in 
by  flimsy  new  structures.  It  was  too  populous,  and  its  life 
pitched  on  too  strident  a  key.  All  this  shut  down  on  the  per- 
spective. In  the  uproar  he  found  it  hard  to  put  the  breath  of 
life,  as  he  would  have  liked,  into  the  great  past.  He  could  better 
patch  together  the  fragment  of  ancient  glory,  recall  to  the  mind 
"the  great  free  people,  the  voice  of  the  orators,  the  procession 
to  the  Capitol,"  outside  of  its  walls  than  within. 

In  the  month  of  May  roses  and  nightingales  were  everywhere 
ambushed  behind  the  garden  walls,  the  one  loading  the  air  with 


THE  RETURN  —  HEROISM  UNDER  PAIN     407 

perfume,  the  other  with  a  great  "din,"  "poor  stuff,"  as  Mr. 
Shaler  phrased  it.  The  "din"  kept  him  awake  at  night  and 
lowered  his  opinion  of  this  European  nonpareil.  To  his  mind 
the  Philomela  of  poets  was  not  worthy  of  his  reputation.  He 
claimed  that  in  America  we  had  songsters  whose  notes  were  far 
sweeter  —  that  we  had  the  bird,  but  we  had  n't  the  poet  to  cele- 
brate its  music  in  words  still  more  melodious. 

As  the  train  drew  off  into  the  country,  a  glimmering  glory  of 
sunlight  rested  on  the  Imperial  City,  and  for  the  last  time  Mr. 
Shaler  looked  upon  Rome.  Travelling  to  Naples,  he  took  a 
farewell  view  of  Vesuvius,  and  thence  sailed  for  America.  Cir- 
cumstances had  shortened  his  vacation  and  made  him  anxious 
to  get  home.  England,  which  he  counted  upon  visiting,  was 
left  for  another  time,  and  along  with  it  many  other  undertak- 
ings, for  as  yet  no  warning  voice  had  spoken,  and  life,  so  far  as 
planning  was  concerned,  might  have  been  in  its  first  quarter, 
as  always  the  waxing,  not  the  waning  time  of  things  was  what 
he  oftenest  thought  of,  such  being  the  privilege  of  his  energetic 
soul. 

Within  a  few  days'  sail  of  New  York,  while  taking  his  daily 
"constitutional," — so  many  times  the  length  of  the  vessel, — 
he  lost  his  footing  on  the  slippery  deck  and  broke  his  left  arm 
just  above  the  wrist.  The  ship's  surgeon  set  the  bone,  but  from 
the  beginning  there  were  signs  that  the  work  was  not  well  done, 
and  therefore,  with  the  sense  that  it  would  have  to  be  repeated 
when  he  came  ashore,  the  pain  was  less  easy  of  endurance.  But 
from  the  very  first  he  refused  to  yield  to  the  infliction  and  en- 
deavored to  do  everything  for  himself.  And  this,  it  may  be  said, 
was  a  characteristic  that  often  gave  pain  to  those  nearest  to 
him ;  he  would  not  allow  them  to  do  for  him  what  their  love 
prompted.  This  strong  motive  of  self-reliance  was  founded 
upon  the  heroic  element  of  his  nature  which,  at  all  hazards, 
would  beat  down  and  dominate  whatever  was  soft  and  feeble ; 
la  mollesse  was  the  quality  of  all  others  for  which  he  had  the 
greatest  contempt.  Therefore  to  those  who  knew  how  much  he 


408  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

often  suffered  and  overcame,  in  spite  of  the  proverbial  disillu- 
sionment of  the  valet  he  grew  by  nearness  to  be  more  the 
hero,  rather  than  less. 

If  there  was  any  perceptible  physical  change  during  these 
later  years,  it  was  perhaps  an  increased  tendency  to  vertigo,  the 
old  enemy  with  which  he  had  struggled  for  a  large  part  of  his 
life.  Even  while  lecturing  it  would  sometimes  assail  him  like  a 
flash  of  lightning,  and  but  for  his  habit  of  holding  himself  well 
in  hand  during  any  physical  stress  he  might  easily  have  suc- 
cumbed. The  only  outward  sign  he  gave  of  the  disturbance  was 
a  blanching  of  the  face  and  a  momentary  interruption  of  the 
flow  of  speech.  He  was  accustomed  to  pull  himself  together  so 
quickly  that  few  noticed  the  break.  The  attack,  short  as  it 
might  be,  nevertheless  produced  very  painful  sensations,  and 
he  often  spoke  of  it  as  "a  living  death."  Sick  headaches 
which  had  tortured  him  from  his  youth  were  now  less  frequent, 
though  sometimes  he  labored  through  a  day  of  hard  work,  even 
a  lecture,  while  borne  down  by  them.  The  stress  they  had  laid 
upon  his  body  and  spirit  all  during  his  earlier  manhood  could  not 
be  estimated,  nor  the  firmness  of  will  that  led  him  to  reject  the 
valetudinarian  habit  of  life.  He  had  sufficient  cause  to  have 
lapsed  into  self-indulgence  and  indolence  had  he  allowed  him- 
self, but  he  set  his  face  against  these  qualities,  and  at  whatever 
cost  of  will-power  and  suffering  he  lived  a  manly  and  self- 
exacting  life.  To  feel  disinclined  to  do  a  thing  was  with  him  good 
reason  for  doing  it.  He  often  said  that  his  physical  ailments  had 
strengthened  his  will  and  done  more  than  anything  else  to  make 
a  man  of  him,  and  for  this  reason  he  gave  to  pain  a  high  place  in 
the  work  of  spiritual  education.  Indeed,  he  was  of  the  nature  to 
give  the  rack  or  thumb-screw  a  word  of  praise. 

The  summer  of  1904  he  spent  much  as  usual,  the  Summer 
School  claiming  in  the  early  part  its  usual  allotment  of  time  and 
care ;  and  later  he  went  to  Montana  to  look  after  the  Conroy 
Mine,  of  which  he  was  the  president.  On  the  way  to  Montana 
he  writes :  — 


THE  LAST  TWO  YEARS  409 

Near  CHICAGO,  Aug.  3, 1904. 

The  first  day  is  now  over.  Good  weather  —  train  not  overcrowded.  I 
thought  I  was  alone  and  so  wrote  you  yesterday,  but  as  I  went  to  mail  the 
letter,  behold  two  of  the  "  old  boys,"  and  since  then  others ;  so  that  it  has  not 
been  so  still  as  I  hoped.  At  6.30  this  evening  I  shall  be  off  for  St.  Paul  and 
the  further  distance. 

I  like  the  plan  of  the  balcony  to  the  new  part  of  the  house  very  much. 
On  the  whole  the  plans  seem  to  me  good.  See  that  Willoughby  [his  son-in- 
law]  rests  a  bit.  The  train  is  about  to  start  and  the  road  is  too  rough  for 
writing.  .  .  . 

The  plans  alluded  to  in  the  above  were  some  which  he  had 
seen  in  Boston  for  the  remodelling  of  the  house  at  the  Vineyard. 
The  balcony  was  intended  as  a  surprise ;  it  was  made  to  connect 
with  Mr.  Shaler's  upstairs  study  so  that  he  could  at  any  time 
when  weary  of  writing  go  out  upon  it  and  refresh  his  eyes  with 
the  sight  of  the  Sound  and  the  near-by  woods,  of  which  he  was 
very  fond. 

The  two  succeeding  years  were  spent  very  much  as  usual; 
mainly  in  the  discharge  of  college  duties,  which  were  neither 
more  nor  less  exacting  than  heretofore ;  but  even  if  they  had  been 
Mr.  Shaler  would  probably  not  have  cared  very  much,  for,  hav- 
ing about  made  up  his  mind  to  withdraw  from  teaching  at  the 
first  convenient  moment,  he  was  possessed  of  the  calm  that 
comes  with  the  sense  of  work  almost  completed.  Only,  as  we 
have  seen,  the  merger  scheme  occasioned  serious  perturbation. 
The  reorganization  of  the  Lawrence  Scientific  School  also  called 
for  the  expenditure  of  much  thought  and  care.  After  these  im- 
portant questions  were  disposed  of  he  settled  down  to  a  state  of 
comparative  repose.  His  daughters  being  married  (the  elder 
to  Mr.  Willoughby  Lane  Webb  and  the  younger  to  Mr.  Logan 
Waller  Page)  and  gone  to  their  own  homes,  the  house  was  left 
very  quiet.  The  time  of  fervid  striving  had  passed ;  a  serenity 
seemed  to  pervade  his  spirit ;  his  engagements  were  less  press- 
ing, or,  perhaps,  it  was  that  he  was  beginning  to  take  things 
more  calmly.  So  the  days  passed  pleasantly  and  peacefully. 
The  evenings  he  spent  by  the  library  fire,  abandoning  the  habit 


410     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

of  going  for  a  part  of  the  time  to  his  upstairs  "den."  He  had  so 
much  that  he  wanted  to  write  about  that  he  looked  forward 
with  infinite  pleasure  to  the  unburdening  of  his  mind  at  his 
own  choice  of  time  and  place.  He  hoped  to  spend  more  of  his 
days  in  the  country,  with  an  occasional  dip  each  year  into  the 
life  of  the  great  cities ;  so  he  proposed. 

On  the  twenty-second  of  February,  1906,  according  to  an  old 
custom  a  reception  was  given  to  the  Southern  Club.  He  always 
enjoyed  these  commemorative  entertainments  and  commended 
the  arrangements  for  this  one,  into  which  some  humorous  feat- 
ures were  introduced,  as  more  successful  than  usual.  He  did 
not,  however,  seem  as  vivacious  as  was  his  wont ;  indeed  he  com- 
plained of  not  feeling  well,  but  since  he  was  suffering  from  what 
was  supposed  to  be  a  slight  attack  of  indigestion,  no  importance 
was  attached  to  the  circumstance.  It  was  obvious,  however, 
that  the  passing  days  did  not  bring  his  usual  vigor.  It  was  not 
many  weeks  after  this  that  he  walked  to  Corey  Hill,  in  Brook- 
line,  to  see  a  sick  friend  in  the  sanitarium  there  who  had  been 
operated  upon  for  appendicitis.  After  the  visit  the  wife  of  his 
friend  insisted  upon  his  driving  home  and  lunching  with  her, 
and  later  she  commented  upon  the  chivalrous  feeling  which 
prompted  him  to  say,  "No,  I  would  like  to,  but  if  I  stayed 
away  my  wife  would  be  lonesome. "  A  hard  crust  of  snow  on 
the  ground  made  the  walk  more  taxing  than  he  expected,  and 
when  he  reached  home  he  complained  of  great  weariness,  and  of 
other  sensations  worse  than  fatigue.  The  doctor  was  sent  for 
and  discovered  alarming  symptoms.  The  next  morning  the 
operation  for  appendicitis  was  performed.  At  first  all  went  un- 
commonly well ;  but  after  a  while  pneumonia  set  in,  and  the 
fight  for  life  began.  Along  with  those  about  him  he  struggled 
heroically  to  keep  at  bay  the  terrible  foe.  It  would  seem  from 
the  resisting  power  his  body  had  always  shown  that  he  might 
have  had  much  to  endure  before  death  came ;  such,  however, 
was  not  the  case.  The  combat  was  hard  and  sharp,  but  it  was 
short.  Then  just  before  the  end,  on  April  the  tenth,  he  dwelt 


DEATH  411 

for  some  hours  in  the  twilight  region.  If  life  is  great  he  might 
have  said,  death  perhaps  is  greater.  He  did  say,  "All  things 
do  prophesy  the  life  to  come."  More  than  this,  the  prayer  he 
uttered  when  a  mere  youth  had  been  amply  fulfilled :  "0  Power 
who  has  given  me  being,  grant  to  me  the  strength  to  live  as  be- 
comes thy  creature.  May  I  stand  amid  the  changes  that  whirl 
around  me  untouched  and  unbroken,  and  when  it  shall  please 
thee  to  end  my*  days,  may  I  not  have  lived  in  vain." 

The  announcement  of  Dean  Shaler's  death  awakened  pro- 
found sorrow  in  the  whole  community.  By  common  impulse  the 
flags  on  the  students'  clubs  and  on  the  city  buildings  were  hung 
at  half  mast,  and  on  the  afternoon  of  the  funeral  the  shops  in 
Old  Cambridge  were  closed.  At  the  meeting  of  the  four  under- 
graduate classes  it  was  decided  that  the  entire  undergraduate 
body,  both  of  the  College  and  of  the  Scientific  School,  should 
assemble  and  thus  express  their  appreciation  of  the  great  and 
noble  work  performed  by  Dean  Shaler  while  connected  with  the 
University.  And  in  this  manner,  between  two  continuous  lines 
of  undergraduates,  his  remains,  borne  on  the  shoulders  of  eight 
students,  were  carried  from  his  house  to  Appleton  Chapel. 
There  Bishop  Lawrence  read  the  Episcopal  burial  service,  and 
immediately  after  interment  took  place  at  Mount  Auburn 
Cemetery. 

Nothing  would  have  touched  Mr.  Shaler's  great  heart  —  the 
heart  that  burned  with  love  and  sympathy  for  them  —  more 
than  the  sorrow  of  the  young  men  who  waited  in  line  to  give  this 
last  token  of  affection  to  their  true  and  valiant  teacher,  or  the 
grief  shown  by  his  associates  and  fellow  townsmen  among 
whom  he  had  lived  "unsullied  with  his  journey  of  the  day." 
Into  his  grave  was  poured  the  mingled  love  of  youth  and  of 
friendships  old  and  tried. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

PERSONAL    CHARACTERISTICS 

PHYSICALLY  Mr.  Shaler  was  well  made,  lithe,  and  muscular. 
The  description  given  of  him  in  a  passport  at  the  age  of  thirty- 
two  was  correct.  Stature  five  feet  eleven  inches,  eyes  gray,  in- 
clining to  blue,  nose  aquiline,  mouth  medium  and  it  may  be 
added,  delicately  moulded  and  sensitive.  Face  thin,  complexion 
fair.  His  hair,  described  as ' '  sandy, ' '  was  unusually  abundant — 
so  abundant  that  one  naturally  expected  it  to  defy  the  thinning 
touch  of  time.  He  disliked  very  much  the  idea  of  growing  bald, 
and  the  only  regard  for  his  personal  appearance  he  ever  showed 
were  some  precautions  which  he  took  the  last  year  or  two  against 
this  disfigurement.  He  was  of  such  just  proportions  that  few  re- 
alized how  tall  he  was.  He  described  an  experience  he  had  when 
he  first  entered  the  drill  class  at  Cambridge  in  1861.  The  drill- 
master,  it  seemed,  spent  at  least  ten  minutes  trying  to  place 
him ;  beginning  low  down  in  the  squad,  he  shifted  him  step  by 
step  until  within  two  of  the  top ;  he,  knowing  where  he  belonged, 
enjoying  the  joke  all  the  while.  His  body  broadened  with  years, 
but  he  had  never  an  ounce  of  flesh  to  spare.  He  held  in  great 
dislike  the  accumulation  of  adipose  tissue  and  the  physical 
inertness  that  is  apt  to  go  with  it.  He  regarded  increase  in  girth 
of  waist  as  a  mark  of  degeneration,  a  sign  that  a  man  was  eat- 
ing too  much  and  walking  too  little.  When  he  saw  a  comrade 
getting  pursy,  he  took  it  seriously  and  would  exhort  him  to 
more  exercise.  He  commented  regretfully  upon  the  fact  that 
only  one  other  teacher  besides  himself  went  regularly  to  the 
gymnasium. 

In  youth,  at  least,  his  face  failed  to  show  what  was  in  him ; 
it  was  alert  and  sensitive,  but  did  not  bode  the  strong-willed, 
dominant  personality  that  time  revealed.  These  qualities, 


HIS  EXPRESSION  OF  FACE  413 

shrouded  by  evident  self-consciousness,  could  be  read  neither 
in  the  look  nor  manner  of  the  young  man.  In  the  course  of  time, 
however,  his  interest  in  his  work  and  in  his  fellow  men  delivered 
his  soul  of  this  burden,  and  he  became  the  most  self-forgetting 
and  self-sacrificing  of  men.  The  centre  of  his  thoughts  was  so 
successfully  shifted  from  himself  to  the  universe  that  he  often 
seemed  to  be  lost  in  the  vast  field  of  time ;  and  again,  he  would 
shelter  himself  in  a  sort  of  humorous  detachment  from  the 
paltry  and  commonplace,  deeming  them  as  part  of  the  infirmity 
of  poor  human  nature  —  poor,  but  none  the  less  lovable.  More 
and  more  he  looked  upon  all  the  elements  of  life,  however  small, 
as  involved  in  the  great  whole,  as  different  actors  in  different 
parts.  His  mind  thus  occupied  with  large  conceptions,  his  ap- 
pearance could  not  fail  in  a  measure  to  reflect  his  thoughts.  One 
saw  in  his  face  that  his  ideal  of  what  a  man  should  be  and  the 
right  way  of  looking  at  things  had  done  their  work  there ;  when 
in  repose  its  expression  was  lofty  and  noble;  it  showed  both 
kindliness  and  wisdom,  that  final  crown  of  attainment. 

Mr.  Shaler  had  great  power  of  endurance,  and  though  often 
assailed  by  sickness  he  was  no  example  of  "lamed  misery."  He 
rallied  quickly  and  went  about  his  business  as  if  nothing  had 
happened.  This  ready  recovery  was  partly  due  to  natural  re- 
siliency, but  more  especially  to  the  will  to  be  well.  Recognizing 
the  danger  of  hypochondria  to  one  gifted  with  an  active  imagina- 
tion, he  set  himself  against  the  impulse  to  yield  to  its  manifold 
suggestions  of  evil,  and  thus  fought  his  way  out  of  the  Slough 
of  Despond  —  the  borders  of  which  he  touched,  though  its 
depths  he  did  not  enter.  He  did  his  duty  thoroughly  by  his 
body,  except  perhaps  by  overtaxing  it  at  times,  but  even  this 
was  in  accordance  with  a  theory  and  not  the  result  of  careless- 
ness. He  believed  that  it  was  well  to  use  one's  powers,  mental 
and  physical,  up  to  their  full  limit,  and  to  vary  occupations 
when  weary  rather  than  suspend  labor  altogether.  He  exercised 
regularly  and  persistently,  preferring  long  walks  off  in  the  coun- 
try, but  if  these  were  not  to  be  had  he  walked  in  and  out  of 


414     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

Boston  when  called  there  on  business,  or  around  Fresh  Pond  in 
all  weathers.  A  day  without  at  least  a  six-mile  tramp  was  bur- 
densome to  him.  He  was  a  good  fencer,  a  good  swimmer,  and 
an  exceptionally  fine  horseman,  having  in  his  day  mounted 
every  kind  of  beast,  under  all  sorts  of  conditions,  and  yet  never 
been  thrown.  As  for  sports,  he  had  taken  his  turn  at  the  bat, 
with  the  oar,  and  at  football,  but  he  cared  little  for  them  or  for 
any  set  amusement.  Nothing  made  time  pass  heavily,  he  said, 
but  pastime.  He  got  stimulus  and  diversion  from  so  many 
sources  within  himself  that  prescribed  forms  of  entertainment 
or  violent  efforts  in  that  direction  made  no  appeal  to  him.  He 
could  take  his  sensations  delicately ;  it  was  not  necessary  to  be 
supersaturated  with  glaring  sights,  loud  sounds,  strong  tobacco, 
or  highly  seasoned  food.  He  drank  a  glass  of  wine  with  the  same 
relish  he  would  have  shown  for  any  other  ingredient  of  a  good 
dinner.  He  did  not  need  wine  as  a  stimulant;  it  might  have 
been  well  had  he  taken  it  more  freely  as  a  sedative.  He  often 
spoke  of  a  delightful  "spree"  he  once  had  with  two  congenial 
spirits  at  the  Cosmos  Club  in  Washington  which  lasted  from 
eight  in  the  evening  till  one  o'clock,  —  the  jollity  sustained  by 
Apollinaris  water  and  crackers.  He  was  capable  of  becoming 
thoroughly  exhilarated  with  good  talk  and  sometimes  better 
on  an  empty  stomach  than  a  full  one.  Coffee  was  his  favorite 
beverage;  it  was  one,  however,  he  could  not  freely  indulge  in. 
It  was  his  habit  to  have  it  for  breakfast  on  lecture  mornings  and 
in  consequence  these  were  regarded  by  the  family  as  red-letter 
days.  On  other  mornings  the  cup  of  tea  was  not  one  that 
cheered ;  on  the  contrary,  Mr.  Shaler  always  found  it  too  strong 
or  too  weak,  too  hot  or  too  sweet,  until  at  last  it  would  be 
necessary  to  remind  him  that  tea  was  not  coffee.  "Alas!  that 
it  is  not/1  he  would  exclaim,  and  without  further  criticism 
empty  his  cup. 

His  youth  had  been  spent  much  among  men  who  in  a  way 
were  high  livers;  he  therefore  was  accustomed  to  see  both 
whiskey  and  wine  consumed  freely.  His  father  often  sent  him, 


HIS  CONVERSATION  415 

when  a  student,  wine  from  his  own  vineyard,  and  yet  he  never 
formed  the  taste  for  intoxicating  liquors.  Indeed,  sometimes 
he  was  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  do  with  the  strong  beverages 
sent  to  him  from  Kentucky.  Especially  was  this  the  case  with 
some  gallons  of  apple  jack  which  proved  altogether  too  potent 
for  his  palate,  and  which  would  have  remained  unused  had  not 
the  housekeeper,  seized  with  a  happy  thought,  resorted  to  it, 
instead  of  wine,  for  the  flavoring  of  jelly.  The  success  of  the 
experiment  was  such  that  this  particular  refreshment  became 
a  feature  of  Sunday  evening  suppers  whose  popularity  grew  as 
the  season  advanced,  for  however  dull  the  meal  might  begin  it 
was  sure  to  be  gay  after  the  jelly  was  served.  The  hostess  was 
flattered  by  requests  for  its  receipt,  and  by  the  relish  with 
which  the  confection  was  eaten ;  but  alas,  when  the  apple  jack 
was  consumed,  the  complaint  arose  that  while  the  mould  was 
the  same,  the  sensation  was  different. 

Whatever  may  be  said  of  the  lost  art  of  conversation,  so  far 
as  Mr.  Shaler  was  concerned  it  had  not  passed  away,  for  he 
was  not  afraid  to  say  what  he  thought;  and  what  others  might 
think  had  no  terror  for  him.  Overflowing  with  anecdotes  and 
reminiscences,  brilliant  and  cheerful,  his  talk  was  an  inspiration, 
and  the  happy  phrase  which  with  most  persons  is  an  accidental 
prize  was  with  him  habitual.  He  delighted  in  hearty  intercourse 
with  people  of  vivid  thought  and  feeling,  with  such  as  had  some- 
thing worth  saying,  though  it  might  sometimes  be  difficult  to 
say  it;  for  unless  his  interlocutor  was  unusually  good  at  "tongue 
fence" he  was  apt  to  get  belated  in  the  race.  Mr.  Shaler 's  forty- 
odd  years  of  lecturing  had  doubtless  confirmed  in  him  the 
habit  of  pretty  continuous  verbal  expression.  It  has  been  said 
that  Lowell  could  talk  in  paragraphs ;  with  equal  truth  it  may 
be  affirmed  that  Shaler  could  talk  in  chapters.  His  conversation 
swung  free,  any  subject  serving  for  the  deliverance  of  his  versa- 
tile mind.  There  was,  however,  no  preaching,  no  "pontificat- 
ing": what  he  said  was  spontaneous,  epigrammatic,  and  in 
accord  with  the  occasion.  With  quip  and  joke  he  enlivened  the 


416  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

homely  facts  of  life,  or  on  easy  wing  ventured  beyond  the 
bounds  of  the  self-evident  and  prosaic. 

In  his  contact  with  men  Mr.  Shaler  seldom  struck  the  minor 
key;  conscious  of  an  underlying  tendency  to  melancholy,  he 
encouraged  himself  in  the  practice  of  cheerfulness,  shutting  his 
lips  upon  anything  like  complaining  or  self-pity.  He  had  not 
only  accepted  the  Universe,  but  had  become  reconciled  to  it  and 
although  no  one  at  times  was  more  alive  to  the  tragic  conse- 
quences of  man's  deeds,  his  poetic  imagination  enabled  him  to 
endow  the  hard  facts  of  life  with  rich  compensations.  The  unity 
of  all  created  things  in  the  plan  of  the  Universe  was  an  abiding 
thought  —  a  thought  which  made  it  possible  for  him  to  believe 
that  society  at  large  might  become  so  united  by  sympathy  that 
the  inherent  isolation  of  the  individual  could  to  a  certain  extent 
be  overcome.  As  a  consequence  of  his  sympathetic  outlook 
upon  the  vast  spectacle  of  ongoing  life,  his  talk  was  optimistic, 
—  not  the  complacent  sort  that  tries  to  drug  laziness  by  good 
humor  with  the  times,  but  of  the  type  which  endeavors  to  master 
difficulties,  —  cheerful  and  full  of  courage.  It  was  this  high- 
sounding  note  of  valor  that  made  him  so  uplifting  a  companion. 
It  may  be  said  here  that  while  in  the  act  of  talking  Mr.  Shaler's 
face  wore  a  vivacious,  half -amused  expression ;  when  he  listened 
his  look  was  intense  and  penetrating,  as  if  he  would  allow 
nothing  to  escape  his  attention. 

With  callow  youths  his  quick  insight  in  the  choice  of  subjects 
that  would  interest  them  —  ranging  from  adventures  by  sea 
and  land  to  football  tactics  and  baseball  curves  —  held  them 
spellbound,  while  the  absence  of  anything  like  professional  pose, 
his  friendliness  and  his  eager  desire  to  see  the  good  that  was  in 
them,  won  their  enthusiastic  and  abiding  affection. 

For  all  Mr.  Shaler's  unfeigned  interest  in  his  fellow  men  he 
never  descended  to  petty  gossip,  or  encouraged  it  in  others.  The 
truth  was,  a  certain  inner  stateliness  of  soul  made  him  not 
scornful,  but  indifferent  to  the  valet  side  of  a  man's  life. 

Mr.  Shaler  was  neither  clubbable  nor  lionizable.  From  good 


HIS  SOCIAL  LIFE  417 

nature  he  joined  many  clubs,  but  he  seldom  attended  their 
meetings.  He  went  perhaps  more  frequently  than  to  any  other 
to  the  Thursday  Club,  where  he  often  spoke.  But  he  cared  little 
for  cut  and  dried  social  expedients;  and  as  for  the  r61e  of  lion, 
the  artificiality  of  it  was  as  repugnant  to  him  as  the  iron  cage  to 
the  free-breathing  animal  from  the  jungle.  He  was  nevertheless 
very  social,  and  although  he  growled  at  having  to  go  to  dinner- 
parties, when  once  launched  he  enjoyed  them  exceedingly.  Of 
late  years  there  was  one  house  in  Boston  in  particular  where 
he  dined  often  —  its  mistress  the  daughter  of  an  old  Kentucky 
friend.  The  warm-hearted  hospitality  of  both  host  and  hostess 
made  him  feel  very  much  at  home,  and  the  talk  about  old  times 
and  the  friends  of  other  days  rejuvenated  him.  To  get  into 
simple,  kindly  relations  with  people  without  any  fanfaronade 
was  what  delighted  him  most.  Much  as  he  enjoyed  meeting  his 
friends  in  their  houses,  nothing  pleased  him  better  than  to  see 
them  in  his  own.  If  a  stranger  brought  a  letter  of  introduction 
he  was  most  scrupulous  in  his  welcome.  Even  when  the  individ- 
ual was  merged  in  a  crowd,  such  as  a  learned  society  and  so 
forth,  he  could  still  meet  successfully  the  collective  demand. 

The  worst  part  of  dinner-parties  was  the  getting  ready  for 
them ;  he  was  so  impatient  a  subject  of  conventional  appearance, 
or  any  form  that  failed  to  represent  a  worthy  outcome  of  social 
experience,  that  the  tying  of  his  white  necktie  was  a  serious 
undertaking.  And  when  several  ties  had  wilted  under  his  fiery 
touch  and  his  wife  was  called  upon  to  finish  the  work,  it  was  to 
both  a  moment  of  extreme  tension.  When  it  was  over  he  would 
heave  a  sigh  of  relief  and  execrate  the  petty  details  of  fashions 
that  stole  a  man's  time  from  better  things.  He  was  careless  about 
his  dress,  but  so  far  as  his  body  was  concerned  cleanliness  was 
next  to  godliness,  and  two  baths  a  day  often  were  none  too 
many  to  meet  his  self-exacted  requirements.  He  took  heed  for 
a  while  to  an  admonition  of  President  Eliot's,  who,  on  their 
way  to  chapel,  good-naturedly  reproached  him  for  walking  on 
the  wet  grass  while  the  morning's  "shine"  was  fresh  on  his 


418     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

boots.  For  several  days  after  he  was  seen  to  pick  his  way  care- 
fully on  the  gravelled  walks.  In  regard  to  his  next-door  neigh- 
bor, whom  he  admired  very  much,  although  it  was  seldom  they 
agreed,  he  used  laughingly  to  say :  "  Now  Eliot  is  too  much  like 
George  Washington  for  us  ever  to  be  able  to  keep  step  long 
together."  Speaking  of  his  other  colleagues,  many  of  whom  he 
loved  dearly,  he  would  often  make  use  of  the  phrase  "He's 
a  dear  boy/'  or  "He's  the  dearest  creature  alive."  This  ex- 
pression was  oftenest  on  his  lips  with  reference  to  Dr.  James, 
Professor  Palmer,  and  Professor  Royce;  and  in  his  lifetime 
Professor  Child  would  call  forth  the  same  spontaneous  words  of 
liking.  Like  himself,  Professor  Child  was  of  a  testy  nature  and 
they  often  disputed  acrimoniously  in  faculty-meetings,  but  they 
would  no  sooner  get  home  than  a  note  would  fly  from  one  to  the 
other  full  of  contrition  and  tender  atonement.  So  far  as  his 
relations  with  the  men  in  his  own  department  were  concerned, 
they  were  cordial,  liberal,  and  encouraging.  Professors  Davis, 
Smyth,  Wolff,  Woodworth,  and  others  had  been  his  old  pupils 
and  were  endeared  to  him  by  long  association.  He  was  also 
most  considerate  of  the  clerks  in  his  office,  and  almost  without 
exception  they  adored  him. 

Mr.  Shaler  was  a  very  constant  friend ;  for,  after  all,  his  im- 
patience was  rooted  in  patience,  and  he  would  put  up  with 
the  backslidings  and  misdemeanors  of  a  person  with  whom  he 
had  once  had  friendly  relations  beyond  the  usual  endurance. 
It  was  rare  that  anything  could  happen  bad  enough  to  shake 
his  loyalty  to  a  tie  once  formed,  and  an  appeal,  however  exact- 
ing, was  seldom  unheeded.  On  one  occasion  when  the  discov- 
ery that  a  German  woman,  who  for  years  had  been  befriended 
on  account  of  her  extreme  poverty,  had  stored  in  bank  six 
hundred  dollars  which,  she  said,  she  was  saving  to  pay  her 
son's  gambling  debts  in  case  he  had  any,  awakened  indigna- 
tion, he  merely  remarked,  "What  did  you  expect?  Besides, 
when  you  undertook  to  help  her  you  should  have  realized 
that  it  was  for  better  or  for  worse."  The  friend  who  was  so 


HIS  LOYALTY  TO  HIS  FRIENDS  419 

fortunate  as  to  have  him  for  an  ally  in  any  difficult  situation 
was  sure  to  be  powerfully  and  intensely  sustained ;  indeed  it 
would  have  been  hard  to  find  a  better  backer  in  a  mortal 
quarrel. 

This  was  a  characteristic  feature  even  of  his  early  manhood, 
and  was  strengthened,  not  diminished,  by  time.  In  1870  his 
friend  Professor  Hyatt  writes:  - 

Boston  Society  of  Natural  History. 

...  I  shall  never  be  able  to  express  my  obligation  to  you  for  the  friendly 
manner  in  which  you  worked  for  me.  Perhaps  no  one  was  more  surprised 
than  your  humble  servant  at  the  sudden  bold  swoop  with  which  you  threw 
the  first  bomb.  I  could  compare  the  effect  of  your  speech  to  nothing  else.  The 
applause  that  followed  was  as  astonishing  to  me  as  to  our  opponents. . . . 

He  often  went  far  afield  to  help  a  friend,  nor  did  he  consider 
that  by  so  doing  he  was  wasting  time  and  energy,  for  the  sym- 
pathetic and  human  realm  in  his  opinion  claimed  the  foremost 
place  in  the  minds  of  men.  "There  were  other  things  in  life," 
he  said,  "besides  beating  a  little  learning  into  a  student." 

If  it  had  been  possible  to  spoil  him  in  his  youth,  he  certainly 
would  have  been  spoiled,  for  he  was  the  constant  object  of  pride, 
solicitude,  and  affection  on  the  part  of  his  parents.  In  his  turn 
he  was  a  devoted  son,  showing  great  tenderness  for  his  mother  ; 
ready  to  go  to  her  at  all  times,  in  the  depth  of  winter  or  the  heat 
of  summer,  that  he  might  give  her  cheer  and  comfort,  especially 
after  his  father's  death.  His  resemblance  to  her  side  of  the 
house  was  strong  —  to  her  brothers  in  particular,  two  of  whom 
were  brilliant  men,  witty,  ready  phrasers  and  much  sought  after 
for  their  social  qualities.  In  his  own  state  of  Kentucky  the 
tongue  was  almost  as  mighty  as  the  sword  and  the  man  or  wo- 
man who  could  flash  forth  an  aphorism  or  a  quick  repartee  was 
exalted.  The  witty  retort  was  native  with  his  father,  but  Mr. 
Shaler's  brilliant  conversational  powers  came  from  his  mother's 
side  of  the  house.  His  mother's  love  for  him  amounted  to 
idolatry.  When  he  was  with  her  she  lived  in  his  shadow ;  every- 
thing he  did  was  right;  every  object  about  him  was  transmuted 


420     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

into  something  fine  and  precious.   Even  the  food  at  his  table 
had  a  better  flavor  than  any  other. 

It  may  be  said  in  this  connection  that  his  attitude  toward 
women  was  exceedingly  chivalrous,  and  for  the  elderly  of  fine 
character  he  had  profound  reverence.  And  yet,  as  a  rule,  his 
affections  having  become  early  centred,  so  far  as  he  was  con- 
cerned, women  only  existed  in  a  generalized  way  and  not  as 
objects  of  definite  personal  interest.  There  was  a  time  in  his 
life  when  he  was  apt  to  take  the  absence  of  beauty  in  a  wo- 
man as  a  personal  affront,  and  if  one  of  his  "  boys  "  married 
a  plain  girl  he  was  indignant.  Farther  along,  however,  this, 
in  a  measure,  ceased  to  be  the  case,  he  was  content  to  find 
in  their  faces  a  good,  motherly,  feminine  expression. 

Mr.  Shaler's  well-recognized  irascibility  was  partly  owing  to 
physical  causes  and  partly  to  an  exceedingly  sensitive  nature. 
His  emotions,  both  pleasurable  and  painful,  were  singularly 
acute,  and  when  thoroughly  aroused  his  tongue  was  sharp  and 
trenchant.  But  at  foundation  he  was  so  noble  and  large-hearted, 
so  willing  to  pardon  and  forgive  the  offence  which  had  aroused 
his  ire,  that  the  sting,  received  and  given,  was  soon  over.  Only 
meanness  and  indirection  he  neither  would  nor  could  forgive. 
He  strove  very  hard  to  overcome  his  excitability.  Yet,  working 
as  he  did  to  the  full  stretch  of  his  capacity  and  a  little  beyond 
(doing  many  things  easily,  he  had  little  present  feeling  of  the 
amount  of  work  he  accomplished),  the  pressure  under  which  he 
lived  was  too  great  for  one  of  his  nervous  temperament.  No- 
thing less  than  superhuman  powers  could  have  coped  with  the 
physical  and  mental  stress  that  his  varied  activities  imposed, 
or  have  allayed  the  nervousness  for  which  they  were  indirectly 
responsible.  There  were  periods  when  his  doing-power  was  ex- 
traordinary. In  contrast  to  it,  do  what  they  would,  those  about 
him  seemed  to  be  mere  cumberers  of  the  soil.  The  last  years  of 
his  life,  however,  in  this  respect  were  somewhat  calmer.  The 
unanswerable  quests  of  the  soul,  the  permanence  of  matter,  and 
the  persistence  of  force,  in  other  words,  the  profundities  of  the 


HIS  PIPE  421 

natural  world,  a  subject  ever  uppermost  in  his  mind,  taught 
him  at  last  a  sort  of  belated  patience  as  well  as  tolerance  in 
others  of  less  strenuous  efforts  than  his  own. 

The  best  antidote  to  nervousness  he  found  lay  in  his  long- 
stemmed  pipe  with  its  small  bowl,  holding  scarcely  a  thimble- 
ful of  the  lightest  and  most  delicately  scented  tobacco  —  a 
mixture  of  his  own,  its  aroma  too  faint  for  the  nicotine-steeped 
senses  of  most  smokers.  His  friends  often  complained  that  in- 
stead of  smoking  tobacco  he  smoked  matches,  so  frequently  did 
he  light  the  dying  ashes.  However  this  may  have  been,  he 
pulled  at  his  pipe  pretty  steadily.  With  his  pipe  in  his  mouth 
and  his  pencil  in  hand,  he  soon  became  lost  in  the  large  mental 
territory  he  owned,  where  he  ranged  at  will  oblivious  of  all 
vexing  cares.  This  world  of  his  thoughts  grew  to  be  more  and 
more  sufficient,  and  therefore  forced  marches  into  remote  geo- 
graphical realms,  instead  of  being  recreative,  were  even  thought 
of  with  positive  aversion.  All  he  asked  of  life,  in  these  last  years, 
was  to  be  left  alone  by  his  fireside  to  do  what  he  pleased,  not  to 
labor  necessitously,  but  only  to  draw  his  pension  and  to  rest  — 
that  is,  to  work  in  his  own  way.  In  fact,  he  was  now  willing  to 
let  the  struggle  pass  on  to  others,  "holding  himself  in  reserve 
for  an  occasional  onslaught  if  necessary." 

Mr.  Shaler's  work-table  was  a  heaped-up  mass  of  papers  —  an 
epitome  of  the  world's  interests.  There  were  blue-books,  theses, 
manuscripts  of  his  own  and  others,  social  letters,  business  let- 
ters, maps,  mining-reports,  newspapers,  and  books  of  reference. 
How  he  found  his  way  through  this  chaos  it  was  difficult  to  un- 
derstand, but  if  his  table  was  left  unmolested,  neither  straight- 
ened nor  dusted,  he  got  on  very  well ;  a  foreign  touch,  however, 
produced  distressing  consequences,  making  him  lose  the  thread 
that  guided  him  through  the  tangle.  For  many  years  during  the 
early  growth  of  the  Lawrence  Scientific  School,  and  even  after, 
he  answered  personally  every  inquiry,  thus  putting  a  severe 
tax  upon  himself;  but  it  was  just  these  personal  communica- 
tions that  made  all  the  difference  between  failure  and  success. 


422  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

His  indefatigable  performance  of  this  dull  clerical  business  was 
pathetic  to  those  who  watched  him  thus  engaged,  and  gave  them 
the  impulse  to  throw  (in  many  instances)  the  illiterate  applica- 
tion into  the  waste-paper  basket,  to  save  his  precious  strength. 
Away  from  his  work-table  he  was  methodical  to  a  marked 
degree.  He  rose  a  few  minutes  before  the  ringing  of  the  College 
bell,  took  a  short  walk  before  breakfast,  going  for  his  newspaper, 
possibly  stopping  at  the  fruit- vender's  to  exchange  a  few  words 
of  Italian  while  selecting  his  oranges  or  grapes,  and  would  also 
look  in  at  his  office  for  a  moment  to  see  that  the  day  was  well 
begun.  After  breakfast  he  went  to  Appleton  Chapel.  The 
morning  service  there  he  regarded  as  a  gate  to  better  health  of 
mind;  the  reading  of  the  Psalms  and  the  short  and  pointed 
address  were  as  a  spiritual  bath,  he  said,  which  prepared  a  man 
to  run  the  day's  course.  From  the  chapel  he  proceeded  to  his 
college  appointments.  The  sequence  of  his  acts  was  almost  un- 
failing. He  kept  his  engagements  with  persistent  punctuality  ; 
disinclination,  sickness,  or  other  solicitation  to  shirk  the  pre- 
scribed task  was  treated  as  non-existent ;  not  unfrequently  he 
would  get  up  out  of  a  sick  bed,  find  his  way  to  the  lecture-hall, 
and  by  sheer  force  of  will  talk  through  the  hour.  The  order  of 
his  life  in  other  directions  was  equally  well  maintained.  On 
election  days  he  went  to  the  polls  early,  his  vote  always  being 
among  the  first  half-dozen  that  were  cast.  This  political  duty 
he  never  neglected,  and  while  a  Democrat,  when  it  was  a  ques- 
tion of  the  better  man,  he  did  not  stick  to  his  party,  but  voted 
for  the  one  who  promised  to  discharge  his  duties  best.  His  own 
sense  of  duty  toward  town,  state,  and  nation  was  always  keen. 
In  travelling,  except  for  delays,  he  usually  outran  his  schedule, 
so  that  letters  directed  to  be  sent  to  different  places  at  special 
times  were  apt  to  be  returned  through  the  dead-letter  office. 
Furthermore  the  housekeeper  who  undertook  to  have  repairs 
done  in  his  absence,  or  the  house  cleaned,  was  almost  sure  to  be 
caught  with  the  task  only  half  accomplished. 


THE  SUBJECT  OF  ANECDOTE  423 

Nothing  but  the  unfailing  regularity  of  his  days  enabled  him 
to  accomplish  what  he  did.  It  was  not,  however,  an  inhuman 
regularity  that  excluded  the  play  of  life ;  he  found  time  for  this, 
too.  Owing  to  the  habit  he  acquired  of  intense  concentration,  he 
was  able  to  make  use  of  spare  moments  for  reading  or  writing 
when  other  men  would  have  thought  of  nothing  save  their  cares 
and  fatigue.  In  these  fragments  of  time  he  would  peg  away  at 
his  regular  work  or  almost  instantaneously  lose  himself  in  his 
own  world  of  entertainment.  He  was  glad  to  have  those  near 
him  enter  this  world  if  they  would,  but  he  never  thrust  his  com- 
positions upon  them,  and  while  engaged  in  writing  anything  of 
a  serious  nature  he  was  averse  to  talking  about  it.  On  the  whole, 
he  was  singularly  independent  of  criticism ;  he  wrote  because  he 
had  something  definite  to  say  and  was  content  to  say  it  once  for 
all  and  forget  it.  With  his  poetry  it  was  different;  he  was  less 
confident  and  asked  advice  of  some  of  his  colleagues  of  reputed 
literary  judgment. 

Mr.  Shaler's  personality  was  such  that  he  became  the  subject 
of  a  whole  world  of  anecdote  and  reminiscence  in  the  College 
circle.  These  were  communicated  by  word  of  mouth,  or  under- 
stood by  nod  and  gesture  by  the  initiated ;  as,  for  instance,  when 
students  called  him  "Uncle  Nat,"  the  sobriquet  suggested  how 
often  they  were  saved  by  timely  application  to  him  from  a  visit 
to  the  "Uncle"  with  the  three  balls  for  sign  of  willingness  to 
accommodate.  But  these  current  sayings  and  the  performances 
that  gave  rise  to  them,  like  all  unrecorded  things,  even  though 
there  were  a  cloud  of  witnesses,  have  gone  or  are  going  the 
way  of  oblivion.  The  other  side  of  his  character  happily  lives 
on  in  his  books. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

LITERARY   WORK 

As  we  have  seen,  Mr.  Shaler  began  to  write  in  his  youth.  He  did 
so,  however,  without  intending  to  make  literature,  in  other  than 
a  secondary  way,  any  part  of  the  serious  work  of  his  life ;  in 
truth  long  after  he  was  fairly  committed  to  the  writing  of  books 
he  insisted  that  such  work  should  with  most  authors  be  a  side 
issue,  the  spilling  over  of  a  full  life ;  a  recreation  rather  than  a 
deliberate  purpose.  The  hard  drill  which  a  man  received  in  the 
exacting  field  of  his  avowed  profession  would,  he  thought,  do 
away  with  amateurish  results.  Furthermore  he  believed  that  a 
well-educated  man  could  apply  his  talents  as  well  to  one  thing 
as  another  and  could  write  on  any  subject  of  ordinary  human 
interest.  Owing  to  his  own  varied  intellectual  activities  it  is 
difficult  to  associate  Mr.  Shaler  with  a  special  branch  of  know- 
ledge or  industry,  for  there  was  hardly  a  subject  on  which  he 
could  not  throw  an  unexpected  light;  and  for  this  reason  his 
literary  work  falls  in  with  no  ready-made  classification  either  of 
subject  or  intellect.  Apparently  no  irresistible  impulse  led  his 
mind  away  from  what  seemed  at  the  moment  the  thing  best 
worth  doing,  nor  when  accomplished  could  it  detain  him  longer. 
It  was  possible  for  him  to  enter  into  the  floating  interests  about 
him,1  and  yet  keep  his  energies  in  the  steady  stream  of  his 
appointed  tasks ;  always  faithful  to  the  hour  and  minute  of  their 
discharge,  never  shirking  the  fatigue  or  monotony  of  their 
smallest  detail.  The  different  ideas  which  beset  him,  strange  to 
say,  were  not  combatants.  In  passing  they  saluted  one  another 
and  went  on  their  way,  each  patiently  biding  its  time  for  fuller 
recognition  and  development.  In  this  respect  his  life  was  pe- 

i  As  is  shown  by  the  multitude  of  magazine  articles  he  wrote  on  current  subjects  of 
interest,  —  such,  for  instance,  as  the  Silver  Question,  the  Negro  Problem,  Red  Sunsets,  the 
Law  of  Fashion,  Hurricanes,  Immigration,  etc. 


HIS  METHOD  OF  WRITING  425 

culiarly  rich,  for  in  his  mental  house  there  were  many  mansions 
into  which  at  will  he  could  enter.  Whatever  struggle  there  may 
originally  have  been  between  poetic  imagination  and  scientific 
research,  the  two  were  not  only  reconciled,  but  during  the  last 
fruitful  years  of  his  life  fused  into  one  in  such  books  as  "The 
Interpretation  of  Nature"  and  "The  Individual."  It  was  not 
only  when  his  mind  travelled  into  the  realm  of  poetry  that  time 
and  eternity,  the  vast  and  the  mysterious,  were  present  with 
him.  These  phenomena  ever  underlay  his  thought,  and  because 
of  this  solemn  undertone  often  there  was  a  note  of  pathos  in 
what  he  wrote  —  markedly  so  in  early  manhood ;  and  later  his 
pen  continued  to  obey  the  dictation  of  a  subconscious  sadness,  a 
sadness  which  in  a  measure  was  lost  in  the  world  of  activity, 
where  he  practised  a  self-sufficing  stoicism,  but  which,  in  the 
world  of  reflection,  showed  itself  continually. 

So  far  as  the  actual  process  of  writing  was  concerned,  Mr. 
Shaler  could  write  at  any  time  and  anywhere ;  he  was  unfamiliar 
with  the  coaxing  habit  indulged  in  by  some  authors.  He  knew 
nothing  of  "moods"  or  "atmospheres,"  nor  did  he  make  osten- 
tatious preparations  for  the  act.  All  he  wanted  was  his  Morris 
chair,  a  tablet,  a  lead  pencil,  and  his  long-stemmed  pipe.  He  did 
not  care  for  what  is  known  as  "the  frippery  of  erudition"  and 
was  without  the  solicitudes  of  those  who  strive  for  faultless 
lines;  indeed  he  produced  too  rapidly  to  keep  his  mind  for  long 
at  the  critic's  level.  What  erasures  he  made  were  done  at  the 
moment  with  the  rubber  end  of  his  pencil,  a  labor-saving  con- 
trivance to  which  he  was  wont  to  sing  a  hymn  of  praise.  His 
writings  are  seldom  cumbered  with  quotations,  and  if  any  came 
to  his  mind  he  was  apt  to  brush  them  aside  in  his  effort  to 
express  himself.  He  wrote  freely  and  easily,  but  no  amount  of 
talent,  unsupported  by  his  steady-pulling  diligence,  would  have 
enabled  him,  amid  so  many  distractions,  to  fill  out  the  long  and 
varied  list  of  his  writings. 

Mr.  Shaler's  first  published  scientific  works  of  any  importance 
were  his  list  of  Anticosti  Brachiopods,  and  later,  in  1876,  The 


426  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

Fossil  Brachiopods  of  the  Ohio  Valley.  His  researches  in  this 
field  were  warmly  commended  by  Agassiz,  and  at  once  gave  him 
a  place  among  his  contemporaries  in  science.  Although  he  early 
began  to  publish  in  scientific  journals,  in  Government  and  State 
Geological  Reports,  a  letter  which  he  wrote  to  his  father  while  in 
England  shows  that  he  was  by  no  means  satisfied  with  what  he 
had  already  done. 

LONDON,  May,  1873. 

S wrote  you  all  the  news  Sunday  last.   We  are  all  much  as  then.   I  did 

too  much  last  week  and  so  am  compelled  to  do  less  this ;  but  I  am  getting 
along  quietly.  I  do  not  expect  ever  to  be  able  to  do  very  hard  work  again ; 
yet  I  think  it  is  probable  that  I  have  a  good  deal  in  me  yet  which  can  be  got 
out  with  careful  management.  I  shall  always  run  the  risk  of  setting  up  the 
old  irritations.  My  plan  is  to  come  back  to  Cambridge  for  the  next  year. 
If  my  Nantucket  scheme  for  summer  school  goes  forward  this  year  I  shall  try 
to  get  there  in  July ;  it  will  involve  only  a  little  supervising  work  and  in  ex- 
change therefor  I  shall  get  two  months'  rest  in  the  winter.  I  intend  to  have 
two  assistants,  which  will  cost  me  $1000,  leaving  me  $3000  from  the  uni- 
versity. I  shall  do  a  little  less  than  half  my  usual  task  for  the  coming  year 
and  see  how  that  does.  I  mean  also  to  come  back  to  horseback  exercise, 
which  is  more  diverting  and  less  wearing  than  foot  exercise.  In  this  fashion 
I  hope  to  live  at  least  twenty  years  of  useful  work.  I  am  anxious  to  have 
some  repose  in  order  that  I  can  begin  to  get  my  scientific  results  in  order. 
I  have  done  a  good  deal  of  work  which  should  be  published,  but  have  as  yet 
got  very  little  on  to  paper  and  into  print. 

While  Director  of  the  Kentucky  Geological  Survey  (1874-80) 
Mr.  Shaler's  annual  reports  and  other  contributions,  written  by 
himself  or  with  the  aid  of  his  assistants,  required  a  great  deal  of 
his  time.  These  writings  relate  to  the  natural  resources  of  the 
state,  as  well  as  to  purely  scientific  subjects.  The  whole  of 
Volume  III,  new  series,  was  written  by  himself.  His  first  inde- 
pendent book,  "Thoughts  on  the  Nature  of  Intellectual  Pro- 
perty," was  published  in  1878;  "The  Geology  of  Boston  and 
its  Environs"  (Memorial  History  of  Boston,  edited  by  Justin 
Winsor),  in  1880.  "Glaciers,"  with  W.  M.  Davis  as  collabora- 
tor, appeared  in  1881.  His  next  venture,  "The  First  Book  of 
Geology,"  was  published  in  1884,  and  "Kentucky:  A  Pioneer 


BAS-RELIEF  OF  MR.   SHALER 


HIS  BOOKS  427 

Commonwealth,"  the  same  year.  Thereafter  his  books  were 
sent  forth  in  rapid  succession  and  about  in  the  order  in  which 
they  are  mentioned  here.  "Physiography  of  North  America" 
(Narrative  and  Critical  History  of  America,  edited  by  Justin 
Winsor),  "  Field  Geology"  (published  serially  in  Popular  Science 
News),  "Aspects  of  the  Earth,"  "Nature  and  Man  in  Amer- 
ica," "  The  Story  of  Our  Continent,"  "  Sea  and  Land,"  "  Valor  " 
(a  poem),"The  United  States"  (edited  byN.  S.  Shaler),  "The  In- 
terpretation of  Nature,"  "  Domesticated  Animals,"  "American 
Highways,"  "Outlines  of  the  Earth's  History,"  "The  Individ- 
ual," "The  Moon,"  "Elizabeth  of  England"  (5vols.),  "The 
Neighbor,"  "The  Citizen,"  "Man  and  the  Earth,"  "From 
Old  Fields."  In  addition  to  the  above  list  of  his  principal  writ- 
ings there  are  twenty-one  long  and  valuable  publications  con- 
tained in  the  United  States  Geological  Survey  Reports,  also 
others  in  the  Reports  of  the  Coast  Survey,  and  a  long  list  of 
papers  in  the  Proceedings  of  the  Boston  Society  of  Natural 
History,  and  in  the  Annual  Reports  of  the  Curator  in  the  Mu- 
seum of  Comparative  Zoology  at  Harvard  College.  Mr.  Shaler's 
contributions  to  learned  societies,  to  scientific  journals,  and  to 
magazines,  and  his  book  reviews  alone  would  fill  many  vol- 
umes. 

The  "First  Book  of  Geology"  was  gratefully  received  by 
teachers  and  was  so  well  appreciated  abroad  that  in  the  course 
of  time  it  was  translated  into  the  German,  Russian,  and  Polish 
languages.  It  was  also  embossed  in  print  characters  for  the  use 
of  the  blind.  From  the  hundreds  of  letters  sent  to  both  pub- 
lishers and  author  after  the  appearance  of  this  little  book  one 
learns  of  the  satisfaction  felt  in  getting  hold  of  something  which 
was  untechnical  in  style,  entertaining,  and  scientifically  true. 
One  teacher  writes :  "  The  interesting  way  in  which  you  treat  of 
all  even  the  most  abstruse  questions  would  vivify  a  stone,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  receptive  mind  of  an  average  pupil."  This 
book  was  the  beginning  of  a  series  which  he  had  in  mind.  Again 
and  again  he  was  requested  by  publishers  to  write  the  more 


428     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

advanced  volumes.  He,  however,  postponed  doing  so,  meaning 
in  the  end  to  give  to  it  his  ripest  knowledge  and  experience. 
Mentally  he  was  entirely  prepared  —  indeed  he  had  written  out 
a  large  part  of  one  of  the  higher  text-books  —  to  finish  the 
undertaking  at  the  first  leisure  period,  that  is,  when  his  life 
should  be  disengaged  from  the  cares  of  administration  and  the 
actual  work  of  teaching,  to  which  he,  in  thought  at  least,  had 
already  set  the  limit.  In  addition  to  a  geological  series  he  also 
considered  the  writing  of  some  science  readers.  "  The  Story  of 
Our  Continent"  is,  strictly  speaking,  the  only  book  of  the  kind 
he  finished ;  nor  was  the  scheme  of  a  family  library,  upon  which 
he  pondered  a  great  deal,  brought  to  fulfilment.  Like  most  of 
his  conceptions,  it  was  outlined  on  a  large  scale.  Publishers 
dwelt  upon  the  subject  with  fascinated  interest,  only  in  the  end 
to  abandon  it  because  of  the  amount  of  labor  and  energy  it 
would  have  required. 

Of  Mr.  Shaler's  exclusively  scientific  writings  there  are  others 
more  competent  to  write  than  I.  One  of  these,  who  knows 
whereof  he  speaks,  has  said,  "  He  was  always  a  thoughtful  ob- 
server, an  independent  inquirer,  and  a  most  ingenious  specula- 
tive theorizer."  It  may  also  be  affirmed  that  in  almost  every 
instance  his  scientific  investigations  were  associated  with  the 
literary  charm  which  made  them  attractive  to  the  lay  reader. 
There  are  at  hand  a  dozen  or  more  letters  relating  to  a  single 
monograph  on  the  "Origin  and  Nature  of  Soils"  which  bear 
witness  to  this  quality.  A  teacher  writes  from  Trenton,  New 
Jersey :  "  I  have  read  '  The  Origin  and  Nature  of  the  Soil '  in  the 
United  States  Government  Report.  For  felicity  of  expression, 
beauty  of  style,  and  rhythmic  movement,  as  well  as  the  insight 
it  gives  into  the  operations  of  divine  law,  it  stands  unequalled. 
It  deserves  an  honored  place  among  the  classics." 

The  best  evidence  as  to  the  interest  of  his  scientific  writings 
is  the  following  line  from  that  fastidious  author,  T.  B.  Aldrich, 
who  perhaps  exceeded  even  James  T.  Fields  in  his  detestation 
of  "a  damned  instructive  lecture"  or  article  either:  — 


HIS  BOOKS  429 

Aug.  25, 1881. 

My  dear  Sir,  —  I  think  that  nothing  of  yours  has  ever  escaped  my  reading 
or  failed  to  reward  it;  so  I  am  very  glad  that  you  have  consented  to  prepare 
the  paper  on  Hurricanes. 

Yours  very  sincerely,  T.  B.  ALDRICH. 

His  book  on  "Domesticated  Animals,"  illustrated  by  Seton 
Thompson,  called  forth  many  enthusiastic  letters  from  people 
having  pets  and  pet  theories,  who  overwhelmed  him  with  anec- 
dotes concerning  the  various  animals  that  figure  in  its  pages. 
He  himself  always  insisted  that  many  of  the  attributes  which 
constitute  a  gentleman  had  passed  over  to  the  dog.  "We  may 
look  upon  the  dog,"  he  says,  "as  affording  the  first  step  on  the 
path  to  culture  which  was  to  lift  man  from  his  primitive  selfish- 
ness to  the  altruistic  state  to  which  he  had  attained.  In  his 
intercourse  with  this  creature  man  first  learned  to  develop  his 
altruistic  motives  beyond  the  limits  of  his  own  kind." 

"Man  and  Earth"  is  the  last  contribution  to  human  know- 
ledge based  on  scientific  inquiry  that  Mr.  Shaler  gave  to  the 
public  —  the  last  of  his  lifelong  efforts  to  interpret  the  facts 
and  mysteries  of  nature  which  he  had  so  lovingly  pondered.  In 
this  volume  he  undertook  to  forecast  the  future  of  the  globe  from 
the  study  of  its  past  history.  Among  other  important  sugges- 
tions its  pages  hold  a  warning  against  despoiling  the  earth  of  its 
treasures.  He  believed  that  the  present  reckless  use  of  nature's 
supplies  would  eventually  transfer  to  Manchuria  and  other  parts 
of  China  the  opportunity  to  furnish  the  world  with  its  coal  and 
iron,  and  that  the  state  which  commanded  the  mineral  stores  of 
that  kingdom  might  find  its  way  to  master  the  world  even  more 
effectively  than  did  Rome  in  her  time. 

In  natural  science,  in  short,  as  in  all  his  work,  Mr.  Shaler  was 
an  innovator  and  a  pioneer,  and  this  is  no  more  markedly  evi- 
dent than  in  the  field  of  his  writing  upon  the  preservation  of 
our  woods  and  waters.  His  reports  on  Swamp  Lands,  and  the 
Origin  and  Nature  of  Soils,  prepared  for  the  United  States 
Geological  Survey,  are  among  the  most  notable  papers  bearing 


430     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

on  the  conservation  of  our  natural  resources,  and  the  lines  of 
action  which  he  laid  down  in  them  have  since  met  with  general 
approval  and  acceptance,  while  his  reports  on  the  Geology  of 
Roads  and  on  Road-Building  Stones  have  proved  of  great  prac- 
tical importance. 

Mr.  Shaler's  earliest  work  in  the  field  of  general  literature  is 
to  be  found  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly  so  early  as  1869.  He  began 
to  contribute  to  that  magazine  with  a  series  of  five  papers  upon 
Earthquakes,  which  attracted  much  attention;  but  as  time 
went  on  his  writings  for  this  magazine  became  less  strictly 
scientific,  and  passing  from  such  subjects  as  a  "Summer's  Jour- 
ney of  a  Naturalist,"  "The  Moon,"  and  "How  to  Change  the 
American  Climate,"  he  came  in  later  papers  printed  in  the  mag- 
azine in  the  course  of  the  next  fifteen  years  to  the  discussion 
of  such  themes  as  the  "Natural  History  of  Politics,"  the  "Use 
of  Numbers  in  Society,"  the  "Negro  Problem,"  the  "Law  of 
Fashion,"  and  similar  topics  of  wide  general  interest  when 
passed  through  the  alembic  of  his  vigorous  mind. 

These  papers  in  the  Atlantic  were  greatly  liked  by  the  readers 
of  the  magazine,  and  highly  valued  by  its  editors.  One  of  these, 
Mr.  Howells,  writes,  "  I  have  been  reading  the  history  of  your 
gipsying  with  greatest  pleasure,  —  the  whole  most  charming 
and  instructive."  And  in  the  correspondence  which  ensued 
between  them  during  the  years  of  Mr.  Ho  wells 's  editorship  of 
the  magazine  there  were  numerous  expressions  of  cordial  appre- 
ciation that  notably  aided  in  stirring  the  literary  impulse  in  Mr. 
Shaler's  writing.  There  are  other  letters,  too,  that  came  to 
him  as  the  result  of  these  contributions  to  the  Atlantic  that 
were  both  pleasing  and  stimulating, — among  them  this  from 
Oliver  Wendell  Holmes :  — 

May  16, 1879. 

Dear  Professor  Shakr:  —  I  have  never  thanked  you  for  your  article  on 
"  Sleep  and  Dreams,"  but  I  do  thank  you  at  last  heartily.  I  have  read  it  with 
much  interest  and  have  been  struck  with  some  of  its  ideas  —  especially  with 
the  original  suggestion  of  the  possibility  of  the  transmission  of  concrete 


A  CURIOUS  DREAM  431 

thoughts.  I  told  my  parlor  audience  at  New  York  a  week  or  two  ago  that 
your  suggestion  would  be  an  admirable  one  in  the  case  of  a  clergyman  who 
had  delivered  a  sermon  just  like  a  printed  one  of  a  famous  divine.  —  His 
father  probably  heard  it  and  having  a  very  retentive  memory  recollected  it 
and  transmitted  it  with  his  virtues  to  his  cruelly  wronged  offspring. 

I  may  possibly  have  thanked  you  before,  but  no  matter.  My  table  is  laden 
with  what  the  Western  people  call  a  "  boom"  of  pamphlets,  and  I  sometimes 
forget  whether  I  have  acknowledged  a  particular  one,  as  I  mean  to  do  with 
the  very  best  of  them  at  least. 

Very  truly  yours,  0.  W.  HOLMES. 

Mr.  Shaler  was  observant  of  his  dreams  and  would  often 
entertain  the  family  at  breakfast  with  some  fantastic  experi- 
ence of  the  kind  he  had  had  the  night  before.  His  dream  about 
the  white  elephant  that  he  found  in  his  bed  would  make  him 
laugh  until  the  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks.  Among  his  notes  is  the 
record  of  the  following  curious  dream.  He  told  it  to  Sir  Arthur 
Sullivan  when  he  was  in  London,  and  always  believed  that  it 
gave  the  musician  a  hint  for  the  plot  of  his  opera  "  Ruddygore." 
He  writes :  "  In  the  fancy  which  I  shall  tell  as  it  came  to  me  I 
was  sitting  with  a  friend  one  evening  talking  of  the  portrait  of 
an  old  warrior  which  hung  on  the  wall.  Suddenly  the  likeness 
became  living  and  the  figure  stood  upon  the  floor.  He  told  us 
that  he  was  prisoned  by  enchantment  in  the  picture  centuries 
ago,  doomed  to  wait  until  some  one  should  pronounce  certain 
words  which  would  break  the  spell.  These  words  we  had 
spoken.  He  besought  me  to  make  the  sign  of  the  cross  upon  his 
forehead  that  he  might  go  to  his  rest,  for  which  he  was  the  more 
eager  for  his  centuries  of  waiting.  This  I  did,  when  at  once  he 
was  gone.  On  the  wall  still  hung  the  vacant  canvas  —  all  of 
one  hue.  This  curious  dream  could  be  made  the  basis  of  an 
effective  tale.  I  do  not  remember  ever  to  have  read  a  story  with 
such  an  incident." 

In  other  than  scientific  fields  the  first  book  by  Mr.  Shaler 
to  be  widely  read  was  the  history  of  Kentucky  in  the  Ameri- 
can Commonwealths  Series,  which  was  published  in  1884.  This 
was  in  a  measure  a  labor  of  love,  and  it  was  an  undertak- 


432  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

ing  for  which  he  was  peculiarly  fitted.  The  knowledge  he  had 
gained  of  the  state  and  its  people,  during  the  years  when  he 
travelled  from  one  end  of  it  to  the  other  in  discharge  of  his 
duties  as  Director  of  the  Kentucky  Geological  Survey,  served 
him  to  good  purpose  in  vivifying  the  historical  record.  He  knew 
the  people  intimately,  the  wealthy  planter  of  the  blue-grass 
region,  the  small  farmer,  and  the  poor  mountaineer,  finding 
among  all  classes  characteristics  which  awakened  his  admira- 
tion. He  had  a  keen  sense  of  the  reserve  power,  the  unused-up 
force  that  in  many  cases  lay  dormant  in  the  different  grades 
of  society.1 

Furthermore,  while  a  Union  man  himself,  Mr.  Shaler's  under- 
standing of  the  motives  of  those  who  cast  in  their  lot  with  the 
Southern  cause  enabled  him  to  treat  of  the  Civil  War  period 
with  larger  comprehension  than  fell  to  the  lot  of  the  mere  parti- 
san writer.  The  proof-sheets  of  his  book  were  subjected  to  the 
criticism  of  some  of  the  ablest  men  in  the  state,  and  as  might 
have  been  expected  there  was  one  point  about  which  there  was 
a  diversity  of  opinion,  viz.,  the  exact  meed  of  praise  due  the 
Union  and  Confederate  soldier.  One  of  his  friends,  Mr.  John 
Mason  Brown,  writes,  October  24,  1884 :  — 

In  reading  over  the  estimate  of  the  troops  during  the  Civil  War,  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  resist  the  conclusion  that  your  historical  opinion  is,  that  the  Union 
forces  of  Kentucky  were  composed  merely  of  such  material  as  were  left  after 
skimming  off  the  cream  of  the  state  into  the  churn  of  Morgan's  cavalry. 
This  is  hardly  gratifying  to  one  who  thinks  so  strongly  to  the  contrary  as 
myself  and  my  friend  Speed.  It  however  suits  Durrett  and  Collins  to  a  dot. 

It  is  barely  possible  that  Mr.  Shaler  may  have  been  induced 
by  the  representation  of  his  critics,  whom  he  greatly  respected, 

i  He  was  fond  of  telling  of  men  whom  he  had  met  in  out-of-the-way  places,  who  had 
interpreted,  often  in  a  wise  way,  the  phenomena  of  nature.  Others  had  the  same  experi- 
ence. Mr.  Edward  Atkinson  writes  to  him :  "  You  once  told  me  that  you  found  an  old 
farmer  up  in  the  mountains  of  Kentucky  who  had  worked  out  a  true  theory  of  erosion. 
I  enclose  letters  from  a  farmer  in  Henderson,  Kentucky,  who  appears  to  have  worked  out 
from  his  inner  consciousness  what  would  be  substantially  the  theory  of  Quesnay  and  the 
physiocrats.  I  wonder  how  many  farmers  of  this  type  are  to  be  found  in  Kentucky.  They 
ought  to  rule  the  state." 


"THE  INTERPRETATION  OF  NATURE"         433 

to  modify  his  first  estimate  of  the  men  engaged  on  the  Union 
and  Confederate  sides;  but  it  is  certain  that  he  never  materially 
changed  it.  His  judgment  was  based  not  alone  upon  the  exploits 
of  Morgan's  cavalry ;  the  record  of  the  First  Kentucky  Confeder- 
ate Brigade  appealed  strongly  both  to  his  reason  and  to  his  im- 
agination. He  felt  that  those  men  by  their  soldierly  qualities 
and  endurance  did  credit  to  the  race,  and  among  the  last  of  his 
writings  was  a  short  poem  called  "The  Orphan  Brigade "  cele- 
brating their  remarkable  deeds.  It  was  "arms  and  man"  he 
sang  and  not  a  political  party ;  nor  war  itself,  for  it  was  his  firm 
conviction  "that  all  armed  struggles  are  monstrous  ills  which 
permanently  weaken  and  degrade  the  states  that  wage  them." 

"The  Interpretation  of  Nature"  contains  a  course  of  lectures 
delivered  in  the  Andover  Theological  Seminary  in  1893.  This 
book  was  in  a  way  the  forerunner  of  "The  Individual,"  and 
many  of  the  considerations  there  presented  in  relation  to  the 
critical  points  in  the  continuity  of  natural  phenomena  and  the 
resultant  occurrence  of  the  unexpected,  were  to  be  more  fully 
elaborated  in  the  later  volume.  It  also  shows  the  same  note  of 
faith  in  a  continual  progress  toward  a  higher  life  as  well  as  the 
conviction  that  the  world  is  governed  not  by  blind  force  but 
by  purposeful  intelligence.  These  conclusions,  together  with  the 
simplicity  and  directness  of  statement,  made  the  book  a  delight 
to  many  readers.  Furthermore,  in  those  parts  which  deal  with 
personal  religion,  it  is  in  a  fashion  a  piece  of  self-revelation. 

He  himself  says  in  the  preface  to  "The  Interpretation  of 
Nature":  "My  first  contact  with  natural  science  in  my  youth 
and  early  manhood  had  the  not  uncommon  effect  of  leading  me 
far  away  from  Christianity.  Of  late  years  a  further  insight  into 
the  truths  of  nature  has  gradually  forced  me  once  again  towards 
the  ground  from  which  I  had  departed."  Indeed  in  his  journal 
there  is  a  corroborative  paragraph  relating  to  this  youthful 
phase  of  experience  which  is  not  without  significance. 

I860.  Time  was  when  all  the  fearful  doctrines  of  the  so-called  Christian 
church  were  rooted  in  my  mind.  Great  Nature  1 1  thank  you  it  is  no  longer 


434  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

so.  I  believed  all  that  I  now  shudder  at.  I  have  heard  ministers  denouncing 
pangs  inconceivable  to  little  children  whose  life  had  passed  like  the  fading 
of  some  springtime  flower,  promising  woe  of  ten  thousand  deaths,  all  con- 
centrated into  one  and  lasting  forever,  to  feeble  and  worn  mortals  tottering 
on  the  change.  While  I  could  not  shake  off  the  toils  which  were  knit  round 
me  I  still  felt  within  that  it  was  a  lie;  there  was  no  answering  voice  that  it 
was  true  coming  from  my  inner  nature  such  as  I  have  ever  felt  when  truth 
came  to  me.  How  I  escaped  from  this  net  I  cannot  in  detail  say.  Partly 
my  escape  from  what  was  called  the  "House  of  God"  was  accomplished 
through  the  study  of  nature,  no,  study  it  was  not,  rather  contemplation  of 
nature  (a  feeling  which  I  am  not  sure  is  not  higher-souled  than  the  study 
which  came  to  me  at  this  time;  my  age  forbade  deep  study  and  I  believe 
that  it  was  better  so).  Without  the  absolute  severance  which  I  made  with 
the  dogmas  of  religion  I  never  could  have  thought.  .  .  .  The  church  is  op- 
posed in  its  dogmas  to  the  advancement  of  man  whether  it  be  through  the 
ways  of  science  or  agency  of  political  changes.  What  the  church  of  Rome 
has  been  to  Italy,  to  Spain,  and  to  others  of  those  most  beautiful  spots  on 
earth,  so  are  the  modifications  of  the  same  institution  in  its  thousand  names 
in  every  land ;  it  makes  men  miserable  or  careless  of  those  great  problems  of 
existence  which  men  are  not  born  to  solve  but  must  strive  nevertheless  to 
understand. 

This  feeling  of  revolt  against  the  old  hell-fire  punishments, 
as  their  letters  indicate,  was  shared  by  others  among  Mr. 
Shaler's  associates.  At  that  time,  it  is  true,  a  youth  often  felt 
called  upon  to  work  in  a  dash  of  skepticism  to  show  that  he  had, 
as  it  were,  put  on  his  mental  toga  virilis;  but  beneath  this  bra- 
vado there  was  with  them  a  heart-felt  repugnance  to  many  arti- 
cles of  the  prevailing  belief.  Yet  despite  his  inability  to  accept 
many  dogmas  of  the  orthodox,  his  frank  expression  of  his  views, 
his  clear  and  candid  thought,  was  found  wholesome  not  only 
by  the  laity  but  by  many  of  the  clergy.  The  Rev.  Leighton 
Parks  writes :  — 

I  have  just  finished  reading  "  The  Interpretation  of  Nature  "  and  am  moved 
to  thank  you  for  it.  My  only  excuse  for  bringing  myself  to  your  notice  is 
that  as  one  of  the  preachers  to  the  University  I  am  profoundly  interested 
in  the  spiritual  life  of  the  young  men  of  the  day.  I  know  what  an  influence 
you  have  in  the  College  and  with  what  admiration  you  are  regarded,  and 
I  rejoice  that  you  have  been  able  to  accomplish  such  work  as  this.  If  your 


"THE  INDIVIDUAL"  435 

book  did  nothing  more  (and  it  will  do  far  more)  than  to  make  the  men  with 
whom  the  future  of  the  country  lies  feel  that  religion  is  worthy  the  consid- 
eration of  thoughtful  men,  it  would  have  been  worth  your  while  to  write  it. 

"The  Individual,"  "The  Citizen,"  and  "The  Neighbor"  form 
a  trilogy  of  scientific  and  philosophical  thought  which  seemed 
to  meet  the  public  need,  one  might  almost  say  the  public  crav- 
ing, for  some  such  exposition  of  the  eternal  problem  of  man's 
relation  to  the  Universe  and  his  fellow  beings.  These  books 
follow  one  another  without  any  formal  plan,  the  one  growing 
spontaneously  out  of  the  other,  or  perhaps  it  is  truer  to  say  that 
the  later  ones  were  sent  on  their  way  by  the  letters  which  came 
to  the  author  after  the  publication  of  "The  Individual." 

In  many  instances  these  letters  are  pathetic  in  their  revela- 
tions of  the  comfort  the  writers  extracted  from  its  pages.  In 
the  welter  of  modern  thought  so  thirsty  were  these  souls  for 
some  spiritual  staff  to  lean  upon  that  they  seized  with  eagerness, 
and  as  if  they  were  demonstrated  facts,  upon  the  hints  and  sug- 
gestions of  immortality  so  judicially  expressed.  Like  much  else 
that  he  wrote,  these  books  were  partly  the  outcome  of  the 
author's  need  to  reduce  to  form  the  thoughts  which  thronged 
upon  him.  The  sympathetic  motive  upon  which  he  so  persist- 
ently dwells  in  their  pages  was  strong  in  his  own  case  and  was 
of  no  recent  origin ;  from  early  manhood  the  subject  had  con- 
stantly beset  him.  In  some  of  his  first  letters  he  emphasized  its 
importance  and  often  expressed  surprise  that  it  was  so  little 
thought  about  and  discussed.  "Its  light,"  he  said,  "had  in  the 
beginning  radiated  from  the  family,"  and  therefore  the  purity 
and  warmth  of  all  family  relations  he  especially  cherished.  The 
curious  thing  about  Mr.  Shaler's  mental  work  was  that  his  dif- 
ferent intellectual  interests  were  never  divorced  from  the  actual 
problems  of  existence,  and  that  subjects  like  the  above,  although 
removed  from  the  practical  questions  of  his  profession,  lived  side 
by  side  with  them. 

Letters  written  to  an  author  sometimes  reveal  the  various 
states  of  mind  awakened  by  his  writings, — showing  the  good 


436     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

as  well  as  the  stony  soil  upon  which  the  seeds  of  his  thought 
have  fallen,  —  and  indirectly  throw  light  upon  his  character. 
Here  are  a  few  of  the  many  he  received  about  "The  Indi- 
vidual." The  first  extract  is  from  a  letter  written  by  a 
woman :  — 

.  .  .  You  can  regard  this  merely  as  a  word  of  appreciation,  of  gratitude 
for  the  light  and  comfort  I  have  got  from  your  book  "The  Individual."  I 
wanted  to  talk  with  you  and  ask  you  questions,  feeling  that  one,  to  use  your 
words,  who  sees  so  far  on  dark  ways  must  be  able  to  penetrate  the  mysteries 
of  life  and  death,  and  make  the  Universe  plain.  At  least  I  was  inclined  to 
feel  that  way.  No  doubt  I  shall  get  something  from  you  that  is  not  in  your 
book,  as  that  is  confined  to  the  scientific,  but  what  a  wonderful  outlook  you 
give.  .  .  I  want  to  tell  you  what  comfort  I  had  from  the  chapter  on  the 
relation  of  parent  to  child  —  I  don't  know  how  you  know  about  it,  unless 
you  love  a  child  not  your  own,  but  I  know  what  you  say  is  true.  I  have  not 
seen  it  or  heard  it  expressed  before  —  it  has  always  been  taken  for  granted 
that  no  one  can  love  a  child  as  does  its  mother.  I  know  I  love  my  sister's 
children  as  if  they  were  my  own.  ...  I  have  much  comfort  in  the  truth 
that  what  we  see  is  not  all  that  is  to  be  known.  That "  much  may  take  place 
in  the  revolution  that  evidently  occurs  in  dissolution  that  we  do  not  see 
at  all.'' 

Here  is  another  that  gave  him  pleasure:  — 

My  dear  Stranger-friend  and  " Brother  Man":  —  I 've  just  finished  reading 
your  exceedingly  interesting  "Individual."  I  feel  sure  that  I,  in  a  measure 
at  least,  appreciate  and  "absorb"  it.  Will  not  the  "solidarity"  of  organized 
society  in  this  century  apply  the  peaceful,  fraternal  teaching  of  the  Christ 
to  their  daily  life?  What  a  vast  theme  it  all  is!  I  feel  cheered,  animated, 
exalted  and  more  full  of  myself,  as  capable  of  being  uttered.  Most  heartily 
do  I  thank  you  for  this  work. 

Gratefully  and  appreciatingly  yours,  T.  F. 

But  most  interesting  of  all,  perhaps,  was  this  from  William 
James :  — 

Dear  Shakr:  —  Being  a  man  of  methodical  sequence  in  my  reading,  which 
in  these  days  is  anyhow  rather  slower  than  it  used  to  be,  I  have  only  just 
got  at  your  book.  Once  begun,  it  slipped  along  "like  a  novel,"  and  I  must 
confess  to  you  that  it  leaves  a  good  taste  behind,  in  fact  a  sort  of  haunting 
flavor  due  to  its  individuality,  which  I  find  it  hard  to  explain  or  define. 


A  LETTER  FROM  WILLIAM  JAMES  437 

To  begin  with,  it  does  n't  seem  exactly  like  you,  but  rather  like  some  quiet 
and  conscientious  old  passive  contemplator  of  life,  not  bristling  as  you  are 
with  "points,"  and  vivacity.  Its  light  is  dampened  and  suffused,  —  and  all 
the  better  perhaps  for  that.  Then  it  is  essentially  a  confession  of  faith  and 
a  religious  attitude,  —  which  one  does  n't  get  so  much  from  you  upon  the 
street,  although  even  there  't  is  clear  that  you  have  that  within  which  pass- 
eth  show.  The  optimism  and  healthy-mindedness  are  yours  through  and 
through,  so  is  the  wide  imagination.  But  the  moderate  and  non-emphatic 
way  of  putting  things  is  not;  nor  is  the  absence  of  any  "American  humor." 
So  I  don't  know  just  when  or  where  or  how  you  wrote  it.  I  can't  place  it  in 
the  Museum  or  University  Hall.  Probably  it  was  in  Quincy  Street,  and  in  a 
sort  of  Piperio-Armadan  trance!  Anyhow  it  is  a  sincere  book,  and  tremen- 
dously impressive  by  the  gravity  and  dignity  and  peacefulness  with  which 
it  suggests  rather  than  proclaims  conclusions  on  these  eternal  themes.  No 
more  than  you  can  I  believe  that  death  is  due  to  selection :  —  yet  I  wish  you 
had  framed  some  hypothesis  as  to  the  physico-chemical  necessity  thereof, 
or  discussed  such  hypotheses  as  have  been  made.  I  think  you  deduce  a  little 
too  easily  from  the  facts  the  existence  of  a  general  guiding  tendency  towards 
ends  like  those  which  our  mind  sets.  We  never  know  what  ends  may  have 
been  kept  from  realization,  for  the  dead  tell  no  tales.  The  surviving  witness 
would  in  any  case,  and  whatever  he  were,  draw  the  conclusion  that  the  uni- 
verse was  planned  to  make  him  and  the  like  of  him  succeed,  for  it  actually 
did  so.  But  your  argument  that  it  is  millions  to  one  that  it  did  n't  do  so  by 
chance  does  n't  apply.  It  would  apply  if  the  witness  had  preexisted  in  an 
independent  form  and  framed  his  scheme,  and  then  the  world  had  realized 
it.  Such  a  coincidence  would  prove  the  world  to  have  a  kindred  mind  to  his. 
But  there  has  been  no  such  coincidence.  The  world  has  come  but  once,  the 
witness  is  there  after  the  fact  and  simply  approves,  dependently.  As  I  under- 
stand improbability,  it  only  exists  where  independents  coincide.  Where 
only  one  fact  is  in  question,  there  is  no  relation  of  "probability"  at  all. 
I  think,  therefore,  that  the  excellences  we  have  reached  and  now  approve 
may  be  due  to  no  general  design,  but  merely  to  a  succession  of  the  short  de- 
signs we  actually  know  of,  taking  advantage  of  opportunity,  and  adding 
themselves  together  from  point  to  point.  We  are  all  you  say  we  are,  as 
heirs;  we  are  a  mystery  of  condensation,  and  yet  of  extrication  and  individu- 
ation,  and  we  must  worship  the  soil  we  have  so  wonderfully  sprung  from. 
Yet  I  don't  think  we  are  necessitated  to  worship  it  as  the  Theists  do,  in  the 
shape  of  one  all-inclusive  and  all-operative  designing  power,  but  rather  like 
polytheists  in  the  shape  of  a  collection  of  beings  who  have  each  contributed 
and  are  now  contributing  to  the  realization  of  ideals  more  or  less  like  those 
for  which  we  live  ourselves.  This  more  pluralistic  style  of  feeling  seems  to 


438  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

me  both  to  allow  of  a  warmer  sort  of  loyalty  to  our  past  helpers,  and  to 
tally  more  exactly  with  the  mixed  condition  in  which  we  find  the  world  as  to 
its  ideals.  What  if  we  did  come  where  we  are  by  chance,  or  by  mere  fact, 
with  no  one  general  design?  What  is  gained,  is  gained,  all  the  same.  As  to 
what  may  have  been  lost,  who  knows  of  it,  in  any  case?  or  whether  it  might 
not  have  been  much  better  than  what  came?  But  if  it  might,  that  need  not 
prevent  us  from  building  on  what  we  have. 

There  are  lots  of  impressive  passages  in  the  book,  which  certainly  will  live 
and  be  an  influence  of  a  high  order.  Chaps.  8,  10,  14,  15,  have  struck  me 
most  particularly. 

I  gave  at  Edinburgh  two  lectures  on  "  The  Religion  of  Healthy-Minded- 
ness,"  contrasting  it  with  that  of  "  the  sick-soul."  I  shall  soon  have  to  quote 
your  book  as  a  healthy-minded  document  of  the  first  importance,  though 
I  believe  myself  that  the  sick  soul  must  have  its  say,  and  probably  carries 
authority  too.  .  .  . 

Ever  yours,  WM.  JAMES. 


Late  in  life  there  was  a  resurgence  of  the  poetic  impulse,  so 
well  fulfilling  itself  that  one  is  tempted  to  ask  what  might  have 
been  the  result,  if,  in  the  fashion  of  a  Wordsworth  or  a  Tennyson, 
Mr.  Shaler  had  set  himself  in  youth  deliberately  to  develop  the 
talent.  But  to  such  painstaking  care  as  they  lavished  upon  their 
work  he  was  altogether  averse.  Once  when  I  repeated  to  him 
Dorothy  Wordsworth's  answer  to  an  inquiry  concerning  her 
brother's  health :  "William  is  not  at  all  well,  he  has  been  labor- 
ing all  day  to  find  an  adjective  to  go  with  'cuckoo/"  he  laugh- 
ingly exclaimed,  "What  a  galoot !  He  deserved  to  have  his  head 
punched."  There  are  passages  in  the  "Elizabeth"  and  other 
poems  which  give  rise  to  the  belief  that  if,  instead  of  using 
the  gift  merely  as  a  pastime,  he  had  employed  it  with  serious 
intent,  a  very  great  name  might  have  been  added  to  the  list  of 
American  poets. 

But  vain  as  are  these  speculations  now,  the  fact  remains  that 
the  return  to  the  poetic  exaltations  that  beguiled  the  golden 
hours  of  his  youth  gave  him  infinite  delight.  In  "The  Individ- 
ual" there  is  a  paragraph  which  may  be  construed  as  personal. 
Writing  of  the  latent  capacities  in  people  which  in  mature  life 


VERSE-WRITING  439 

often  assert  themselves,  he  says :  "  To  the  oldish  person  who  is  a 
bit  weary  with  the  repetitions  of  his  days,  to  whom  the  best  of 
his  profits  have  already  a  tiresome  sameness,  the  effect  of  a  new 
accomplishment  is  magical.  ...  It  brings  again  the  joy  of 
youth,  for  the  most  of  the  pleasure  of  that  time  lies  in  just  such 
excursions  into  the  great  unknown  of  the  self."  He  had  so  great 
respect  for  the  creative  habit  of  mind  that  he  urged  those  about 
him  to  make  an  attempt  at  something  of  the  kind,  no  matter  in 
how  humble  a  vein.  Such  an  attempt  he  believed  would  at 
least  lead  to  a  keener  appreciation  of  the  art  of  those  who  had 
won  the  great  prizes  of  fame.  — 

Although  few  of  his  friends  had  failed  to  recognize  the  poetic 
side  of  Mr.  Shaler's  nature,  they  had  not  suspected  him  of  skill 
in  metrical  composition.  It  was  therefore  a  surprise  when  the 
typewritten  copy  of  the  "Armada"  was  first  passed  from  one 
to  another.  The  dramatic  romance,  "Elizabeth  of  England/' 
of  which  the  "Armada"  is  a  part,  —  the  first  that  was  written, 
—was  begun,  the  author  says  in  the  preface  to  that  work,  "to 
test  the  truth  of  a  common  statement  as  to  the  effect  on  the 
mind  of  long-continued  application  to  tasks  such  as  occupy  men 
of  science."  Mr.  Darwin's  experience  in  the  loss  of  the  aesthetic 
sense  gave  point  to  the  argument,  also  the  lack  of  literary  skill 
on  the  part  of  many  eminent  investigators.  "  These  instances," 
he  says,  "have  led  to  a  general  belief  that  there  is  something  in 
the  quality  of  scientific  work  which  inevitably  leads  to  a  loss  of 
imaginative  power."  This  charge  of  the  essential  incompati- 
bility of  science  and  the  humanities  Mr.  Shaler  took  very  much 
to  heart.  He  believed,  on  the  contrary,  "that  the  work  of  the 
naturalist  in  interrogating  his  world  of  facts  differs  in  no  essen- 
tial way  from  that  of  the  poet  in  elaborating  his  fancies  —  both 
alike  using  the  constructive  imagination."  With  this  convic- 
tion he  set  to  work  to  make  a  personal  experiment  which  might 
have  some  measure  of  critical  value.  He  further  states  that  it 
was  difficult  to  make  a  beginning,  but  after  a  few  hundred  words 
had  been  set  down  in  an  automatic  manner  the  writing  began 


440  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

to  take  shape,  not  in  a  kind  of  measured  prose  such  as  he  had 
thought  to  use,  but  as  heroic  verse,  "which  at  once  proved  to  be 
an  easier  and  more  sustaining  mode  of  expression  than  prose 
-  far  easier  to  frame  and  more  helpful  to  the  mind  than  the 
prose  I  am  now  writing." 

The  impression  that  developed  into  the  impulse  that  pro- 
duced Mr.  Shaler's  cycle  of  Elizabethan  dramas  is  to  be  found 
noted  in  his  Journal  as  far  back  as  1858. 

.  .  .  The  works  of  Charles  Kingsley  will  often  bear  even  the  investigation 
of  the  most  hypercritical  without  danger;  so  clear,  so  healthy  is  the  mind 
of  this  author.  It  had  been  nearly  a  year  since  I  had  read  a  novel  and  it  was 
half  my  resolution  not  to  read  another  when  accident  threw  in  my  way 
a  single  line  from  his  "Andromeda";  it  was  a  verse  worthy  of  Homer. 

"Boomed  in  their  wave-worn  hills  as  they  champed  at  the  roots  of  the 
mountain." 

Curiosity  impelled  me  to  read  the  poem  whence  comes  this  remarkable  de- 
scription ;  then  to  seek  some  other  work,  "  Westward  Ho,"  from  so  admirable 
a  pen.  The  author  has  been  fortunate  in  selecting  for  his  plot  an  age  more 
than  any  eventful  to  the  world.  The  reign  of  Queen  Bess,  the  decline  of  the 
Spanish  power,,  the  Armada,  the  last  struggle  of  an  effete  yet  mighty  nation 
to  retain  the  headship  of  the  world.  And  then  the  impulse  of  "Westward 
Ho"  gives  a  wide  scope  to  the  imagination. 

Forty  years  later,  in  "The  Armada,"  his  own  imagination 
reconstructed  that  age  "more  than  any  eventful  to  the  world." 

The  success  of  the  endeavor  naturally  produced  a  feeling  of 
elation,  for  Mr.  Shaler  was  not  one  to  be  twitted  with  impunity; 
as  his  associates  must  have  known,  he  was  ever  ready  in  any 
debate  to  give  a  Roland  for  an  Oliver.  But  aside  from  the  mo- 
mentary triumph  in  the  success  of  this  essay  he  had  found  a 
mode  of  literary  expression  that  was  to  be  a  source  of  great  and 
unexpected  pleasure,  serving  as  an  outlet  for  his  own  varied 
emotions  —  enough  at  any  time  to  vivify  a  five-act  drama.  The 
characters  he  chose  in  which  to  embody  his  ideals  became  in- 
tensely real  and  the  hours  he  spent  in  their  company  a  veritable 
delight.  The  moment  he  dropped  his  serious  labors  he  could  at 


"ELIZABETH  OF  ENGLAND "  441 

once  enter  this  kingdom  of  poetic  imagination  and  there  feel 
himself  secure  from  the  aggressions  of  vexatious  cares. 

The  choice  of  subject  for  his  drama  was  thoroughly  character- 
istic ;  for  with  all  his  love  of  humanity  in  its  high  and  its  low 
degrees,  the  circumstances  and  motives  of  the  aristocratic  class 
—  men  born  to  responsibility  and  leadership,  having  the  old- 
time  grace  of  manner  and  spirit  —  most  readily  engaged  his 
interest  and  affection.  But  above  all,  aristocracy,  for  him, 
meant  that  the  strong  should  serve  the  weak,  and  should  also 
represent,  as  Aristotle  explained,  "ancient  wealth  and  excel- 
lence." 

Imaginative  work  was  to  have  furnished  relaxation  from  the 
more  taxing  tasks  Mr.  Shaler  had  planned  for  the  future ;  it  was 
to  have  been,  so  to  speak,  the  musical  accompaniment  of  his 
declining  years,  for  as  yet  his  pen  had  but  begun  "to  glean  his 
teeming  brain."  In  his  power  to  maintain  his  own  world  of 
thought  irrespective  of  the  casual  surroundings,  he  proved  his 
kinship  with  the  poets  of  the  Tudor  times.  Had  there  been  the 
right  kind  of  a  tavern  —  a  Mermaid  Tavern  —  or  a  coffee- 
house in  Cambridge,  he  might  have  written  there,  or  wherever 
vivid  men  crowded  together.  In  a  paper  in  which  he  describes 
his  mode  of  writing,  he  says :  - 

In  my  earlier  experiences,  as  before  noted,  the  lack  of  continuity  was 
marked,  every  suggestion  came  to  an  end  in  a  few  lines,  rarely  more  than  a 
score.  Now,  with  the  dramatic  purpose  before  me,  the  rush  of  conceptions 
was  almost  baffling  and  their  persistence  such  as  to  perplex  me  when  engaged 
in  other  tasks.  To  give  an  instance,  one  of  many,  showing  the  curious  per- 
sistence of  these  dramatic  conceptions  where  they  did  not  belong,  I  will  tell 
the  story  of  how  the  picture  of  the  progress  of  the  Spanish  Armada  up  the 
British  Channel  came  into  the  conscious  field.  I  had  written  some  days  be- 
fore the  part  of  the  third  play  of  the  "  Elizabeth"  up  to  the  end  of  the  scene 
on  Tilbury  Field,  and  here  put  the  work  aside  with  no  idea  of  what  should 
come  next.  I  should  have  said  that  the  whole  business  was  quite  as  much 
out  of  my  mind  as  a  chapter  of  the  "Arabian  Nights,"  for  I  was  engaged  in 
looking  after  the  affairs  of  a  public  dinner  over  which  I  had  to  preside  and 
act  as  toastmaster.  In  the  middle  of  the  feast,  while,  so  far  as  I  could  judge, 


442     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

my  mind  was  intensely  occupied  with  the  matter  in  hand,  the  scenes  of  the 
channel  fight  came  out  of  the  darkness.  I  had  to  do  my  toastmaster's  busi- 
ness with  the  preposterous  din  of  that  action  in  the  background.  This 
disturbance  lasted  for  about  an  hour;  when  the  dinner  was  through  the 
scenes,  though  well  remembered,  were  no  longer  present  to  sight  and  hear- 
ing as  before. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  that  the  persons  who  appear  in  the  dramatic 
conception  come  apparently  in  a  sudden  manner  before  the  mind,  in  my 
experience,  even  where  they  are  historic  personages  about  whom  I  have  read 
and  formed  opinions  as  to  their  appearance  and  character.  When  they 
are  visualized  in  action  they  are  often  quite  unlike  the  images  previously 
formed  of  them.  To  take  a  leading  example  of  this,  that  of  Queen  Bess 
herself,  what  I  had  read  of  her  led  to  a  notion,  not  at  all  dramatic  in  its 
intensity,  but  entirely  clear,  that  she  was  a  hard,  calculating,  cruel  woman, 
vastly  vain,  redeemed  only  by  a  large  measure  of  political  shrewdness.  The 
conception  of  her  appearance  was  distinctly  forbidding.  "  Old  wooden 
petticoats"  I  remember  often  calling  her.  When  she  appeared  it  was  rather 
as  a  tender  lass  with  a  self-sacrificing  motive,  and  the  other  notion,  formed 
on  reading  and  portraits,  never  returned  to  me.  So  with  a  dozen  other  of  the 
characters  of  the  known  people,  none  of  them  appeared  as  I  had  historically 
conceived  them  or  as  I  should  have  delineated  them  in  prose. 

The  publication  of  the  five  volumes  of  "Elizabeth  of  Eng- 
land" brought  Mr.  Shaler  many  appreciative  letters  from  those 
best  qualified  to  measure  his  achievement,  and  the  cycle  was 
widely  recognized  as  a  work  of  large  significance,  showing  the 
essential  unity  of  the  poetic  with  the  scientific  imagination  on 
its  highest  level.  What  Macaulay  wrote  of  Bacon  has  a  sin- 
gular applicability  to  this  other  deep  delver  in  natural  lore :  — 

In  truth,  much  of  Bacon's  life  was  passed  in  a  visionary  world,  amidst 
things  as  strange  as  any  that  are  described  in  the  Arabian  Tales,  or  in  those 
romances  on  which  the  curate  and  barber  of  Don  Quixote's  village  performed 
so  cruel  an  auto-da-fe,  amidst  buildings  more  sumptuous  than  the  palace  of 
Aladdin,  fountains  more  wonderful  than  the  golden  water  of  Parizade,  con- 
veyances more  rapid  than  the  hippogryph  of  Ruggiero,  arms  more  formidable 
than  the  lance  of  Astolfo,  remedies  more  efficacious  than  the  balsam  of 
Fierabras.  Yet  in  his  magnificent  day-dreams  there  was  nothing  wild,  no- 
thing but  what  sober  reason  sanctioned.  He  knew  that  all  the  secrets  feigned 
by  poets  to  have  been  written  in  the  books  of  enchanters  are  worthless  when 


"FROM  OLD  FIELDS"  443 

compared  with  the  mighty  secrets  which  are  really  written  in  the  book  of 
nature,  and  which,  with  time  and  patience,  will  be  read  there. 

Two  other  dramas,  "Alfred  the  Great"  and  "Curtius,"  writ- 
ten at  this  period,  were  never  published.  "Valor,"  a  poem  de- 
livered before  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa,  June  26,  1902,  was  warmly 
appreciated  by  those  who  heard  it.  As  to  his  manner  of  speak- 
ing, the  accompanying  letter  from  the  then  teacher  of  elocution 
at  Harvard  gives  the  best  and  most  competent  representa- 
tion:— 

You  perhaps  know  that  I  hurt  my  knee  a  short  time  ago,  and  for  some  days 
I  was  unable  to  walk.  This  morning,  I  am  glad  to  say,  I  could  hobble  over 
to  Sanders  Theatre  to  hear  you.  You  were  so  real,  and  so  entirely  individ- 
ual in  your  delivery,  as  well  as  in  your  matter,  that  I  found  myself  thor- 
oughly absorbed  in  your  thought,  and  forgot  entirely  about  your  manner. 
That  to  my  mind  is  the  greatest  praise  that  can  be  given  to  a  speaker.  Your 
form  of  speaking  was  indeed  a  true  reflection  of  the  man  back  of  it,  whom 
to  know  is  to  honor.  An  old  war  veteran  who  sat  near  me  said  that  you  did 
not  fire  Gatling  guns  in  your  talk,  but  you  dwelt  on  the  happy  and  peaceful 
side  of  the  relations  of  our  people,  which  he  said  to  his  mind  was  the  side 
to  dwell  upon.  This  morning  you  quoted  one  of  the  Scriptural  sayings  that 
I  use  a  good  deal  in  talking  of  my  work  —  "  What  does  it  profit  a  man  if  he 
gain  the  whole  world,  and  lose  his  own  soul?  "  Your  soul  was  in  the  topmast 
of  your  being. 

"From  Old  Fields,"  the  last  volume  Mr.  Shaler  ever  wrote 
(published  after  his  death),  took  even  stronger  hold  upon  the 
author  than  any  of  his  previous  poetic  writings.  This  collection 
of  short  poems  is  the  record,  in  many  instances,  of  personal 
experiences.  In  writing  them  he  lives  over  the  grim  days  of  the 
Civil  War,  qualifying  the  youthful  ardor  by  the  sad  reflection 
time  brings  to  the  man  who  revives  the  dead  passions,  who 
hears  the  voiceless  call  of  the  dead  past.  Of  these  last  poems 
Dr.  William  James  writes:  — 

Dec.  25,  1906. 

Dear  Mrs.  Shaler:  —  I  have  been  waiting,  ere  I  wrote  to  you,  to  finish 
reading  the  Poems  of  the  Civil  War  which  you  so  generously  sent.  I  read 
the  last  line  only  night  before  last,  so  that  my  letter  falls,  most  felicitously, 


444  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

upon  Christmas  Day.  I  imagine  that  if  Shaler  had  seen  the  whole  thing  in 
proof,  and  revised  it  himself,  certain  little  verbal  and  versical  roughnesses 
would  have  been  smoothed  out,  but  they  make  no  difference  in  the  grand  effect. 
It  is  a  most  moving  and  grasping  work,  with  a  great  epic  wind  of  sadness 
blowing  all  through  it  in  spite  of  so  many  lively  individual  touches.  These 
all  seem  to  me  cut  on  a  vast  background  of  landscape,  and  human  multitudes 
fulfilling  what  was  fated,  that  dim  twilight  in  which  the  memories  of  those 
early  60's  lie  now  in  so  many  of  our  minds.  There  are  "  anecdotes  "  in  plenty, 
but  they  all  swim  in  that  atmosphere  of  landscape  and  historic  fate,  and  moral 
sadness  in  the  life  of  man.  It  is  very  striking  that  Shaler,  who  had  so  many 
notes  in  his  mind,  should  have  struck  this  note  so  strongly  and  (it  seems 
to  me)  so  exclusively  in  these  poems.  They  are  entirely  unique,  copying  no 
special  model,  and  their  emotional  atmosphere  is  unique  too  —  it  shows 
how  strongly  he  was  subject  to  those  sentiments  of  vastness.  The  mixture 
of  breadth  of  effect,  of  dignity  and  grandeur  of  tone,  with  vulgar  realism 
in  much  of  the  detail  is  very  extraordinary.  And  of  course  the  note  of  mag- 
nanimity and  humanity  everywhere,  so  characteristic  of  him !  I  am  sure  that 
the  six  volumes  of  poems  will  outlast  in  fame  all  his  scientific  prose  —  espe- 
cially this  last  one. 

Affectionately  yours,  WM.  JAMES. 

A  month  earlier  Charles  Eliot  Norton  had  written: — 

You  have  given  to  me  a  very  precious  gift  in  sending  to  me  a  copy  of 
"From  Old  Fields."  These  poems  would  have  extraordinary  interest  even 
if  one  knew  nothing  of  their  author.  But  to  us  who  knew  and  loved  Mr. 
Shaler  they  make  a  quite  exceptional  appeal.  He  lives  in  them.  I  see  and 
hear  him  as  I  read  them.  His  heroic  spirit,  his  tender  heart,  his  quick 
and  generous  sympathies,  his  nature  full  of  reverence  for  nobility  in 
man  and  woman  and  quick  to  discern  it  under  whatever  disguise,  his  sim- 
plicity and  readiness  to  feel  and  express  emotion  provided  only  it  became 
a  man,  and  his  uncompromising  resolution  to  see  things  as  they  really 
are,  —  all  this  and  much  more  is  manifest  in  these  poems.  It  is  the  work  of 
most  poets  that  chiefly  interests  us,  but  here  it  is  the  poet  and  not  his  poems : 
as  fine  as  they  are,  he  is  finer.  Hereafter,  when  I  am  asked,  "What  manner 
of  man  was  Shaler?"  I  shall  reply,  "You  may  know  him  by  these  poems." 

This  volume  can  draw  no  more  fitly  to  its  close  than  with  a 
paragraph  from  a  letter  from  Professor  George  Herbert  Palmer, 
Mr.  Shaler's  neighbor  and  intimate  friend  for  many  years.  In 
it  there  is  the  phrase  "the  great  powerful  creature, "  which,  with 


LETTER  FROM  PROFESSOR  PALMER         445 

the  added  words  of  "brave"  and  "generous,"  is,  when  all  is  said, 
perhaps  the  truest  key  to  Mr.  Shaler's  character.  The  facts  set 
down  here,  which  lead  us  the  general  way  he  trod,  reveal  but  a 
tithe  of  his  soul's  adventures;  in  his  nature  there  is  still  a  large 
territory  that  remains  unexplored,  and,  though  steeped  in  his 
personality,  it  has  been  beyond  my  power  to  give  the  true 
measure  of  the  man  who  marched  along  under  the  sign  of  the 
Universe,  of  one  who  was  close  to  nature,  close  to  the  affairs  of 
the  world,  and  deeply  involved  in  the  poet's  realm  of  fancy. 
This  memoir  therefore  goes  forth  giving  an  inadequate  picture 
of  the  life  of  a  great  and  good  man.  Mr.  Palmer  writes :  — 

Thank  you  for  this  delightful  volume.  All  of  Mr.  Shaler's  writing  is 
highly  characteristic.  In  every  sentence  of  his  one  hears  his  voice.  But  I 
think  he  has  nowhere  more  completely  expressed  himself  than  in  this  book. 
Here  is  his  chivalry,  his  adventure,  his  public  spirit,  his  perpetual  humor, 
his  wide  sympathy,  his  profound  religiousness.  Through  his  escapade  with 
Elizabeth,  too,  he  has  acquired  ease  in  blank  verse.  So  that  he  seems  himself 
to  be  muttering  these  tales  and  setting  his  lips  hard  together  after  the  climactic 
passages.  How  many  such  yarns  has  he  spun  to  me  in  equally  picturesque 
prose !  Some  of  these  poems,  too,  I  had  already  seen.  He  brought  them  to  me 
in  manuscript,  and  in  my  ruthlessly  critical  way  I  pulled  them  to  pieces  and 
told  him  to  go  to  work  at  them  longer.  Now  they  are  precious.  I  long  to  tell 
him  so  and  to  say  over  the  love  and  admiration  which  then  seemed  unneces- 
sary. Fortunately  he  was  big  enough  not  to  need  our  approval.  I  think  he 
knew  how  many  of  us  loved  him,  and  deep  within  was  glad.  But  the  great 
powerful  creature  strode  along  his  noble  and  independent  path  while  we 
little  fellows  scrambled  after,  hardly  near  enough  to  make  our  delight  in 
him  audible.  How  large  your  companionship  with  him  was  your  words  in 
this  volume,  and  elsewhere,  show.  Happy  woman  to  have  been  so  blest,  and 
happy  we  who  were  allowed  to  know  you  both  I 


LIST  OF  PUBLICATIONS 


BOOKS,  ETC. 

Kentucky  Geological  Survey,  new  series  (1874-1880).  Reports  of  Progress, 
Memoirs  of  Survey,  and  Bulletins  by  Director  and  Assistants.  Vol.  iii  by 
Director  alone. 

Question  Guide  to  Environs  of  Boston,  for  Beginners  in  Geology  in  Har- 
vard University.  I :  Somerville  and  Cambridge.  Cambridge :  C.  W.  Sever, 
1875. 

Thoughts  on  the  Nature  of  Intellectual  Property.  Boston :  James  R.  Osgood 
&  Co.,  1878. 

The  Geology  of  Boston  and  its  Environs  (Memorial  History  of  Boston, 
edited  by  Justin  Winsor).  1880. 

Glaciers,  with  W.  M.  Davis  as  collaborator.  Boston :  James  R.  Osgood  & 
Co.,  1881. 

The  First  Book  of  Geology.  Boston:  Ginn  &  Heath  [1884].  (There  are  also 
German  and  Polish  editions  of  this  text-book.) 

Kentucky :  A  Pioneer  Commonwealth.  Boston:  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co., 
1885. 

Physiography  of  North  America  (Narrative  and  Critical  History  of  Amer- 
ica, edited  by  Justin  Winsor).  Boston,  1887. 

Field  Geology.  (Published  serially  in  Popular  Science  News.)  1887. 

Aspects  of  the  Earth.  New  York :  Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  1889. 

Nature  and  Man  in  America.  New  York :  Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  1891. 

The  Story  of  Our  Continent.  Boston:  Ginn  &  Co.,  1892. 

Sea  and  Land.  New  York :  Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  1892. 

Valor.  Harvard  Graduates'  Magazine,  1892. 

The  United  States,  edited  by  N.  S.  Shaler.  New  York:  D.  Appleton  &  Co., 
1893. 

The  Interpretation  of  Nature.  Boston:  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.,  1893. 

Domesticated  Animals.  New  York :  Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  1895. 

1  This  list  does  not  pretend  to  completeness.  Many  scientific  notes  by  Mr.  Shaler  appeared 
in  the  Proceedings  of  the  Boston  Society  of  Natural  History  and  elsewhere,  and  many  re- 
ports on  mines,  railroads,  etc.,  are  to  be  found  in  printed  documents.  Mr.  Shaler  also  con- 
tributed scientific  articles  to  Johnson's  Universal  Cyclopedia  and  edited  the  geological 
terms  in  the  Standard  Dictionary.  A  very  full  bibliography  of  his  writings,  compiled 
by  Prof.  John  E.  Wolff  of  Harvard  University,  appears  in  the  Bulletin  of  the  Geological 
Society  of  America  for  March,  1908. 


448  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

American  Highways.  New  York:  Century  Co.,  1896. 
Outlines  of  the  Earth's  History.  New  York:  D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  1898. 
The  Individual  New  York:  D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  1900. 
The  Moon.  Smithsonian  Institution,  1903. 

Elizabeth  of  England.  Five  volumes.  Boston:  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co., 
1903. 

The  Neighbor.  Boston:  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.,  1904. 
The  Citizen.  New  York:  A.  S.  Barnes  &  Co.,  1904. 
Man  and  the  Earth.  New  York:  Fox,  Duffield  &  Co.,  1905. 
From  Old  Fields.  Boston:  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.,  1906. 


MISCELLANEOUS  REPORTS 

Report  on  Phosphate  Beds  of  South  Carolina.  Coast  and  Geodetic  Survey, 
1870. 

Report  on  Geology  of  the  Sea  Island  District.  Coast  and  Geodetic  Survey, 
1870. 

Report  on  a  special  investigation  of  lunar  phenomena,  dated  Sept.  25, 
1872.  Annals  of  the  Astronomical  Observatory  of  Harvard  College,  vol. 
viii,  pp.  50-53.  1876. 

Report  on  the  Delaware  Gravel  Beds,  containing  chipped  pebbles.  Pea- 
body  Museum  American  Archaeology  in  connection  with  Harvard  College, 
vol.  ii.  1876-77. 

Report  on  The  Unfinished  Work  of  the  Survey  of  the  Commonwealth  under 
Dr.  David  Dale  Owen.  Frankfort,  K  . :  Yeoman  Press,  1877. 

Report  on  Lunar  and  Terrestrial  Geology.  Observatory,  Harvard  College, 
1878. 

The  Island  of  Campobello.  Preliminary  Report.  Cambridge,  1881. 

Report  on  The  Fossil  Brachiopods  of  the  Ohio  Valley.  (Geological  Survey  of 
Kentucky.)  Cincinnati:  Robert  Clarke  &  Co.,  1883. 

Preliminary  Report  on  The  Geology  of  Cobscook  Bay,  District  of  Maine. 
American  Journal  of  Science,  July,  1886. 

Annual  Report  of  the  Commissioners  of  the  Massachusetts  Topographical 
Survey  for  1887. 

Report  on  Fluviatile  Swamps  of  New  England.  American  Journal  of  Sci- 
ence, March,  1887. 

Report  of  Massachusetts  Commissioners  of  Topographic  Survey  and  Map, 
with  F.  A.  Walker  &  H.  L.  Whiting.  1890. 

Report  of  Massachusetts  Gipsy  Moth  Commission.  1890. 

Report  on  Tertiary  and  Cretaceous  Deposits  of  Eastern  Massachusetts. 
Bulletin  of  Geological  Society  of  America,  vol.  i,  443-452.  Plate  1.  1890. 


LIST  OF  PUBLICATIONS  449 

Report  on  The  Topography  of  Florida.  1890. 

Report  on  The  Inundated  Lands  of  Massachusetts.  Massachusetts  Board  of 
Agriculture,  1891. 

Report  on  Marshes  and  Swamps  of  Northern  Long  Island,  between  Port 
Washington  and  Cold  Springs  Harbor.  1902. 

Report  on  Plans  for  the  Extermination  of  Mosquitoes  on  the  North  Shore  of 
Long  Island,  between  Hempstead  Harbor  and  Cold  Springs  Harbor,  pp.  64-76. 
New  York:  Styles  &  Cash,  1902. 


REPORTS  CONTAINED  IN  UNITED  STATES  GEOLOGICAL 
SURVEY  PUBLICATIONS 

Report:  Atlantic  Coast  Division.  U.  S.  Geol.  Surv.,  J.  W.  Powell,  Director, 
6th  Ann.  Rept.,  1884-85,  pp.  18-22.  Washington,  1885. 

Preliminary  Report  on  Seacoast  Swamps  of  the  Eastern  United  States. 
U.  S.  Geol.  Surv.,  J.  W.  Powell,  Director,  6th  Ann.  Rept.,  1884-85,  pp. 353- 
398.  Washington,  1885. 

Report:  Atlantic  Coast  Division  of  Geology.  U.  S.  Geol.  Surv.,  J.  W.  Powell, 
Director,  7th  Rept.,  1885-86,  pp.  61-65.  Washington,  1888. 

Report  on  The  Geology  of  Martha's  Vineyard.  U.  S.  Geol.  Surv.,  J.  W. 
Powell,  Director,  7th  Rept.,  1885-86,  pp.  297-363,  pis.  19-29.  Washington, 
1888. 

Introduction:  Nature  and  Origin  of  Deposits  of  Phosphates  of  Lime,  by 
R.  A.  F.  Penrose,  Jr.  U.  S.  Geol.  Surv.  Bull.,  vol.  7,  pp.  483-494,  no.  46. 
Washington,  1888. 

The  Geology  of  Nantucket.  U.  S.  Geol.  Surv.  Bull.,  vol.  8,  pp.  601-653, 
10  pis.,  no.  53.  Washington,  1889. 

Report:  Division  of  Coast-Line  Geology.  U.  S.  Geol.  Surv.,  J.  W.  Powell, 
Director,  8th  Rept.,  pp.  125-128.  Washington,  1889. 

The  Geology  of  the  Island  of  Mount  Desert,  Maine.  U.  S.  Geol.  Surv., 
J.  W.  Powell,  Director,  8th  Rept.,  pp.  987-1061,  pis.  64-76.  Washington, 
1889. 

Report:  Atlantic  Coast  Division.  U.  S.  Geol.  Surv.,  J.  W.  Powell,  Director, 
9th  Rept.,  pp.  71-74.  Washington,  1889. 

The  Geology  of  Cape  Ann,  Massachusetts.  U.  S.  Geol.  Surv.,  J.  W.  Powell, 
Director,  9th  Rept.,  pp.  529-611,  pis.  32-37.  Washington,  1889. 

General  Account  of  the  Fresh-Water  Morasses  of  the  United  States,  with 
a  Description  of  the  Dismal  Swamp  District  of  Virginia  and  North  Carolina. 
U.  S.  Geol.  Surv.,  J.  W.  Powell,  Director,  10th  Rept.,  pp.  255-339,  pis.  6-19. 
Washington,  1890. 


450     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SEALER 

Report:  Atlantic  Coast  Division.  U.  S.  Geol.  Surv.,  J.  W.  Powell,  Director, 
10th  Kept.,  pp.  117-119.  Washington,  1890. 

The  Origin  and  Nature  of  Soils.  U.  S.  Geol.  Surv.,  12th  Ann.  Kept.,  pt.  1, 
pp.  219-345.  1892. 

The  Geological  History  of  Harbors.  U.  S.  Geol.  Surv.,  13th  Ann.  Kept., 
pt.  2,  pp.  99-209,  pis.  22-45,  figs.  7-15.  1893. 

Preliminary  Report  on  the  Geology  of  the  Common  Roads  of  the  United  States. 
U.  S.  Geol.  Surv.,  15th  Ann.  Kept.,  pp.  259-306.  1895. 

The  Geology  of  the  Road-Building  Stones  of  Massachusetts,  with  Some 
Consideration  of  Similar  Materials  from  Other  Parts  of  the  United  States. 
U.  S.  Geol.  Surv.,  16th  Ann.  Kept.,  pt.  2,  pp.  277-341,  pis.  18-24.  1895. 

Origin,  Distribution,  and  Commercial  Value  of  Peat  Deposits.  U.  S.  Geol. 
Surv.,  16th  Ann.  Kept.,  pt.  4,  pp.  305-314.  1895. 

Geology  of  the  Cape  Cod  District  (Massachusetts}.  U.  S.  Geol.  Surv.,  18th 
Ann.  Kept.,  pt.  2,  pp.  503-593,  pis.  97-104,  figs.  86-92.  1898. 

The  Glacial  Brick  Clays  of  Rhode  Island  and  Southeastern  Massachusetts, 
with  J.  B.  Woodworth  and  C.  F.  Marbut.  U.  S.  Geol.  Surv.,  17th  Ann.  Kept., 
pt.  1,  pp.  957-1004,  pis.  61-62,  figs.  34-43.  1896. 

Geology  of  the  Richmond  Basin,  Virginia,  with  J.  B.  Woodworth.  U.  S.  Geol. 
Surv.,  19th  Ann.  Kept.,  pt.  2,  pp.  385-520,  pis.  18-52,  figs.  90-116.  1899. 

Geology  of  the  Narragansett  Basin,  with  J.  B.  Woodworth  and  A.  F.  Foreste. 
U.  S.  Geol.  Surv.,  Mon.  xxxiii,  402  pp.,  31  pis.,  30  figs.  1899.  (Reviewed 
in  Journal  of  Geology,  vol.  8,  pp.  377-378.  1900.) 

MUSEUM  OF  COMPARATIVE  ZOOLOGY  REPORTS 

Report  on  List  of  Brachiopods  from  the  Island  of  Anticosti.  M.  C.  Z.,  June, 
1865,  pp.  10. 

Report  on  the  Collection  of  Brachiopoda.  Annual  Report  M.  C.  Z.  1864 
(1865),  pp.  41-42. 

Reports  on  the  Palseontological  Collections.  Annual  Report  M.  C.  Z.  1865 
(1866),  pp.  28-30. 

Report  on  the  Department  of  Paleontology.  Annual  Report  M.  C.  Z.  1866 
(1867),  pp.  33-35. 

Report  on  the  Collection  of  Fossil  Remains  in  General.  Annual  Report 
M.  C.  Z.  1868  (1869),  pp.  41-45;  1869  (1870),  pp.  26-30. 

[Reports  on  Instruction  in  Geology  and  Palaeontology.]  Ann.  Rept.  M.  C.  Z. 
1870  (1871),  pp.  24-26 ;  1871  (1872),  pp.  28-29 ;  1872  (1873),  pp.  28-31 ;  1875 
(1876),  pp.  29-30 ;  1876  (1877),  pp.  12-14 ;  1877-78  (1878),  pp.  20-21 ;  1878- 
79  (1879),  pp.  11-12 ;  1879-80  (1880),  pp.  12-13 ;  1880-81  (1881),  pp.  10-13 ; 
1883-84  (1884),  pp.  19-20;  1884-85  (1885),  pp.  19-20;  1885-86  (1886), 


LIST  OF  PUBLICATIONS  451 

pp.  12-13; l  1886-87  (1887),  pp.  10-13;  1887-88  (1888),  pp.  12-14;  1888-89 
(1889),  pp.  12-15;  1889-90  (1890),  pp.  11-14 ;2  1890-91  (1891),  pp.  12-17  ;3 
1891-92  (1892),  pp.  17-19;  1892-93  (1893),  pp.  19-21;  1893-94  (1894), 
pp.  19-24;  1894-95  (1895),  pp.  20-26;  1895-96  (1896),  pp.  20-25;  1896-97 
(1897),  pp.  10-17;  1897-98  (1898),  pp.  8-12;  1899-1900  (1900),  pp.  19-28.* 

Report  on  the  Geology  of  the  Cambrian  District  of  Bristol  Co.,  Massachu- 
setts.  M.  C.  Z.,  October,  1888,  pp.  30. 

Report  on  the  Occurrence  of  Fossils  of  the  Cretaceous  Age  on  the  Island 
of  Martha's  Vineyard,  Mass.  M.  C.  Z.,  June,  1889,  pp.  10. 

Report  on  the  Topography  of  Florida.  M.  C.  Z.,  March,  1890,  pp.  20. 

Report  on  the  Conditions  of  Erosion  beneath  Deep  Glaciers,  based  upon 
a  Study  of  the  Boulder  Train  from  Iron  Hill,  Cumberland,  R.  1.  M.  C.  Z., 
January,  1893,  pp.  42. 


MEMOIRS  OF  MUSEUM  OF  COMPARATIVE  ZOOLOGY 

Vol.  IV:  (No.  10)  The  American  Bison,  Living  and  Extinct,  by  J.  A.  Allen, 
in  connection  with  the  Geological  Survey  of  Kentucky;  preliminary  note 
by  N.  S.  Shaler.  May,  1876,  pp.  246. 

Vol.  VIII :  (No.  3)  North  American  Reptiks,  by  S.  Carman,  in  connection 
with  the  Kentucky  Geological  Survey;  preliminary  note  by  N.  S.  Shaler. 
July,  1884,  pp.  200. 

Vol.  XVI:  (No.  1)  Notes  on  the  Taxodium  distichum,  or  Bald  Cypress. 
June,  1887,  pp.  16.  (No.  2)  Notes  on  the  Original  Connection  of  the  Eastern 
and  Western  Coal  Fields  of  the  Ohio  Valley.  June,  1887,  pp.  12. 


SCIENTIFIC  MEMOIRS 

Proposition  concerning  the  Motion  of  Continental  Glaciers.  Memoirs  Boston 
Society  Natural  History,  June,  1875. 

Notes  on  the  Cause  and  Geological  Value  of  Variation  of  Rainfall.  Id., 
October,  1875. 

On  the  Antiquity  of  Caverns  and  Cavern  Life  in  the  Ohio  Valley.  Id., 
February,  1875 ;  ii,  355. 

Propositions  concerning  the  Classification  of  Lavas  considered  with  Reference 
to  the  Circumstances  of  their  Extrusion.  Id.,  1880. 

i  1884-86  with  W.  M.  Davis. 

»  1886-90  with  W.  M.  Davis  and  J.  E.  Wolff. 

»  1890-91  with  J.  D.  Whitney,  W  M.  Davis,  and  J.  E.  Wolff. 

«  1899-1900  with  W.  M.  Davis,  R.  T.  Jackson,  and  R.  DeC  Ward. 


452  NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 


MISCELLANEOUS  ESSAYS  AND  SCIENTIFIC  PAPERS 

On  the  Formation  of  Mountain  Chains.  Geological  Magazine,  London, 
1868. 

Earthquakes.  Atlantic  Monthly,  June,  1869. 

Great  Earthquakes  of  the  Old  World.  Id.,  August,  1869. 

An  Account  of  Specimens  from  Ohio  and  Kentucky,  presented  to  the  Pea- 
body  Museum,  Harvard  University  (a  letter  to  Jeffries  Wyman).  Peabody 
Museum  Reports,  i,  1214.  Cambridge,  1869. 

Earthquakes  of  the  American  Continents.  Atlantic  Monthly,  October,  1869. 

Earthquakes  of  the  Western  United  States.   Id.,  November,  I860. 

California  Earthquakes.  Id.,  March,  1870. 

The  Time  of  the  Mammoths.  American  Naturalist,  May,  1870. 

An  Ex-Southerner  in  South  Carolina.  Atlantic  Monthly,  July,  1870. 

Father  Blumhardt's  Prayerful  Hotel.  Id.,  December,  1870. 

The  Effect  of  Pressure  on  Rocks.  Proceedings  Boston  Society  Natural  His- 
tory, January,  1872. 

Notes  on  the  Origin  of  our  Domesticated  Cat.  Id.,  April,  1872. 

Notes  on  the  Effects  of  the  Upright  Position  of  Man.  Id.,  June,  1872 ;  vol.  xv, 
p.  188. 

Rattksnake  Hypothesis.  American  Naturalist,  April,  1872. 

On  the  Geology  of  the  Island  of  Aquidneck  and  the  Neighboring  Parts  of 
the  Shores  of  Narragansett  Bay.  Id.,  September,  October,  and  December, 
1872. 

Effects  of  Extraordinary  Seasons  on  the  Distribution  of  Animals  and  Plants. 
Id.,  November,  1872. 

Notes  on  the  Right  and  Sperm  Whales.   Id.,  January,  1873. 

The  Summer's  Journey  of  a  Naturalist.  Atlantic  Monthly,  June,  August, 
and  September,  1873. 

The  Moon.  Id.,  September,  1874. 

Notes  on  Some  of  the  Phenomena  of  the  Elevation  and  Subsidence  of  the 
Continents.  Proceedings  Boston  Society  Natural  History,  December,  1874; 
vol.  xvii,  p.  288. 

Martha's  Vineyard.  Atlantic  Monthly,  December,  1874. 

North  American  Climate.  Proceedings  Boston  Society  Natural  History, 
1875. 

Notes  on  Cause  of  Geological  Value  of  Variations  in  Rainfall.  Id.,  October, 
1875;  vol.  xviii,  p.  176. 

Some  Considerations  on  the  Possible  Means  whereby  a  Warm  Climate  may 
be  produced  within  the  Arctic  Circle.  Id.,  January,  1875;  vol.  xvii,  p.  332. 


LIST  OF  PUBLICATIONS  453 

A  State  Survey  for  Massachusetts.  Atlantic  Monthly,  March,  1875. 

The  Harvard  Summer  School  of  Geology.  American  Naturalist,  January, 
1876. 

On  the  Prehistoric  Remains  of  Kentucky,  by  Lucien  Carr  and  N.  S. 
Shaler.  Cambridge :  University  Press,  1876. 

How  to  change  the  North  American  Climate.  Atlantic  Monthly,  December, 
1877. 

Notes  on  the  Age  and  Structure  of  the  Several  Mountain  Axes  in  the  Neigh- 
borhood of  Cumberland  Gap.  American  Naturalist,  July,  1877. 

On  the  Existence  of  the  Alkghany  Division  of  the  Appalachian  Range  ivithin 
the  Hudson  Valley.  Id.,  October,  1877. 

The  Mountain  Axes  near  Cumberland  Gap.  Id.,  July,  1877. 

The  Silver  Question  Geologically  Considered.  Atlantic  Monthly,  May,  1878. 

Reelfoot  Lake.  Id.,  August,  1878. 

Notes  on  Certain  Evidences  of  a  Gradual  Passage  from  Sedimentary  to 
Volcanic  Rocks,  shown  in  Brighton  District.  Proceedings  Boston  Society  Nat- 
ural History,  January,  1879. 

Notes  on  Submarine  Coast  Shelf  or  Hundred  Fathom  Fringe.  Id.,  May,  1879. 

Note  on  Value  of  Saliferous  Deposits  as  Evidence  of  Former  Climatic  Con- 
ditions. Id.,  1879. 

The  Natural  History  of  Politics.   Atlantic  Monthly,  March,  1879.  — 

The  Use  of  Numbers  in  Society.   Id.,  September,  1879.    — 

Precious  Metal  Mining  in  the  United  States.  Kansas  City  Review,  vol.  iv; 
1880. 

Future  of  Precious  Metal  Mining  in  the  United  States.  Atlantic  Monthly, 
June,  1880. 

The  Future  of  Weather  Foretelling.  Id.,  November,  1880. 

On  the  Recent  Advances  and  Recession  of  Glaciers.  Proceedings  Boston 
Society  Natural  History,  vol.  xxi,  p.  162 ;  March,  1881. 

A  Winter  Journey  in  Colorado.  Atlantic  Monthly,  January,  1881. 

The  Value  of  University  Records.  Harvard  Register,  April,  1881. 

Hurricanes.  Atlantic  Monthly,  March,  1882. 

Improvement  of  the  Native  Pasture-Lands  of  the  Far  West.  Science,  March 
23,  1883. 

The  Floods  of  the  Mississippi  Valley.  Atlantic  Monthly,  May,  1883. 

American  Swamp  Cypress.  Science,  July  13,  1883. 

The  Red  Sunsets.  Atlantic  Monthly,  April,  1884. 

Altruism.  A  lecture  delivered  at  the  Harvard  Divinity  School.  Christian 
Register,  May,  1884. 

On  the  Origin  of  Kames.  Proceedings  Boston  Society  Natural  History, 
vol.  xxiii,  p.  36;  February,  1884.  (Also  separately.) 


454     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

The  Negro  Problem.  Atlantic  Monthly,  November,  1884. 
-  —  Humanism  in  the  Study  of  Nature.    Science,  July  24,  1885. 

Race  Prejudices.  Atlantic  Monthly,  October,  1886. 

The  Swamps  of  the  United  States.  Science,  March  12,  1886. 

On  the  Formation  of  Mountain  Chains.  Geological  Magazine,  London, 
vol.  5,  pp.  511-517.  1886. 

On  the  Parallel  Ridges  of  the  Glacial  Drift  in  Eastern  Massachusetts.  Id., 
London,  vol.  8,  pp.  27,  28.  1886. 

On  the  Needs  of  American  Universities.  Harvard  Monthly,  February,  1886. 

Series  of  Twenty-five  Colored  Geological  Models  and  Twenty- five  Photographs 
of  Important  Geological  Objects,  accompanied  by  letter-press  descriptions, 
with  the  assistance  of  W.  M.  Davis  and  T.  W.  Harris.  Boston:  D.  C. Heath 
&  Co.,  1886. 

Field  Geology.  Popular  Science  News,  May  and  August,  1887. 

The  Stability  of  the  Earth.   Scribner's  Magazine,  March,  1887. 

The  Forests  of  North  America.  Id.,  April,  1887. 

Caverns  and  Cavern  Life.  Id.,  October,  1887. 

The  Instability  of  the  Atmosphere.  Id.,  August,  1887. 

The  Supply  of  Natural  Gas.  Forum,  May,  1887. 

The  Earthquake  in  the  Riviera.  Epoch,  March,  1887. 

The  Law  of  Fashion.  Atlantic  Monthly,  March,  1888. 

Animal  Agency  in  Soil  Making.  Popular  Science  Monthly,  February, 
1888. 

—  On  the  Study  of  Nature.    Popular  Science  News  and  Boston  Journal  of 
Chemistry,  April,  1888. 

Volcanoes.  Scribner's  Magazine,  February,  1888. 

The  Crenitic  Hypothesis  and  Mountain  Building.  Science,  June  15,  1888. 
Rivers  and  Valleys.  Scribner's  Magazine,  August,  1888. 
The  Work  of  Underground  Waters.   Chautauquan,  December,  1889. 
College  Scientific  Expeditions.  Id.,  1889. 

The  Sense  of  Honor  in  Americans.  North  American  Review,  August,  1889. 
Discipline  in  American  Colleges.  Id.,  July,  1889. 
The  Athletic  Problem  in  Education.  Atlantic  Monthly,  January,  1889. 
The  Problem  of  Discipline  in  Higher  Education.    Id.,  July,  1889. 
School  Vacations.  Id.,  December,  1889. 

Effects  of  Permanent  Moisture  on  Certain  Forest  Trees.  Science,  March  8, 
1889. 

The  Common  Roads.  Scribner's  Magazine,  October,  1889. 
Chance  or  Design.  Andover  Review,  August,  1889. 
Knees  of  the  Bald  Cypress.  Garden  and  Forest,  January,  1890. 

—  Nature  and  Man  in  America.  Scribner's  Magazine,  September,  1890. 


LIST  OF  PUBLICATIONS  455 

The  Use  and  Limits  of  Academic  Culture.  Atlantic  Monthly,  August,  1890. 

Science  and  the  African  Problem.  Id.,  July,  1890. 

The  Negro  Race  Question.  Arena,  November,  1890. 

The  Peculiarities  of  the  South.  North  American  Review,  October,  1890. 

Critical  Points  in  Continuity  of  Natural  Phenomena.  Unitarian  Review, 
January,  1890. 

Rock  Gases.  Arena,  May,  1890. 

Soils  of  Massachusetts,  a  lecture  delivered  at  the  annual  meeting  of  the 
Mass.  State  Board  of  Agriculture,  1890. 

Note  on  Glacial  Climate.  Proceedings  Boston  Society  Natural  History, 
vol.  xxiv,p.  460;  1890. 

Individualism  in  Education.  Atlantic  Monthly,  January,  1891. 

College  Examinations.  Id.,  July,  1891. 

The  Interpretation  of  Nature,  a  lecture  on  the  Winckley  Foundation,  An- 
dover  Theological  Seminary.   1891. 

The  Antiquity  'of  the  Last  Glacial  Period.   Proceedings  Boston  Society 
Natural  History,  May,  1891. 

The  Betterment  of  Our  Highways.  Atlantic  Monthly,  October,  1892. 

The  Border  State  Men  of  the  Civil  War.  Id.,  February,  1892. 

Sea  and  Land.   Scribner's  Magazine,  May,  1892. 

The  Depths  of  the  Sea.  Id.,  July,  1892. 

Icebergs.  Id.,  August,  1892. 

Caves.  Id.,  April,  1892. 

Sea  Beaches.  Id.,  June,  1892. 

Regulation  of  Professions.  Engineering  Magazine,  October,  1892. 

United  States  Geological  Survey.  Id.,  November,  1892. 

Relation  of  Animals  and  Plants.  Harper's  Magazine,  April,  1892. 
—  Faith  in  Nature.  International  Quarterly,  December,  1892. 

Our  Costly  Geological  Survey.  1892. 

European  Peasants  as  Immigrants.  Atlantic  Monthly,  May,  1893. 

Relations  of  Academic  and  Technical  Instruction.   Id.,  August,  1893. 

Undiscovered  Mineral  Wealth  of  the  World.    Donahoe's  Magazine,  May, 
1893. 

High  Buildings  and  Earthquakes.  North  American  Review,  March,  1893. 

Geology,  What  is  it  ?  Chautauquan,  December,  1893. 

The  Geology  of  Niagara  Falls.  In  Howells  (W.  D.),  etc.,  "Niagara  Book," 
pp.  65-92.   1893. 

Beasts  of  Burden.  Scribner's  Magazine,  July,  1894. 

The  Dog.  Id.,  June,  1894. 

Geological  Science.  Chautauquan,  November,  1894. 

The  Horse.  Scribner's  Magazine,  November,  1894. 


456     NATHANIEL  SOUTHGATE  SHALER 

The  Transmission  of  Learning  through  the  University.    Atlantic  Monthly, 
January,  1894. 

Distribution  of  Earthquakes.  Proceedings  Boston  Society  Natural  History, 
vol.  xxvi,  pp.  246-256;  1894. 

Domesticated  Birds.  Scribner's  Magazine,  September,  1895. 

The  Direction  of  Education.  Atlantic  Monthly,  March,  1895. 

Training  of  Engineers.  Engineering  Magazine,  September,  1895. 

Relation  of  Science  to  Industry.  Chautauquan,  October,  1895. 

Conquests  of  Geology.  Id.,  December,  1895. 

March  of  Invention.  Id.,  November,  1895. 

Aspects  of  the  Negro  Question.   Public  Opinion,  February,  1895. 

The  Last  Gift  of  the  Nineteenth  Century.  North  American  Review,  Decem- 
ber, 1895. 

Beaches  and  Tidal  Marshes  of  the  Atlantic  Coast.  American  Book  Com- 
pany, 1895. 

Conditions  and  Effects  of  the  Expulsion  of  Gases  from  the  Earth.   Proceed- 
ings Boston  Society  Natural  History,  vol.  xxvi,  pp.  89-106 ;  1896. 

Natural  History  of  Warfare.  North  American  Review,  March,  1896. 

Relations  of  Geologic  Science  to  Education.   Science,  April  24,  1896. 
— — *  Environment  and  Man  in  New  England.  North  American  Review,  October, 
1896. 

Erosion  of  the  Soil.   National  Geological  Magazine,  October,  1896. 

The  Scotch  Element  in  the  American  People.  Atlantic  Monthly,  April,  1896. 

Autumn.  Chautauquan,  November,  1897. 

Nansen's  Heroic  Journey.  Atlantic  Monthly,  May,  1897. 

Elective  Studies.  Educational  Review,  May,  1898. 
—  The  Landscape  as  a  Means  of  Culture.   Atlantic  Monthly,  December,  1898. 

The  Changes  of  the  Seasons.  Chautauquan,  April,  1898. 

The  True  Measure  of  Valor.   Harvard  Graduates'  Magazine,  December, 
1898. 

Future  of  the  Negro  in  the  United  States.  Popular  Science  Monthly,  July, 
1900. 

The  Negro  since  the  Civil  War.  Id.,  May,  1900. 

The  Transplantation  of  a  Race.  Id.,  March,  1900. 

Influence  of  the  Sun  upon  the  Earth's  Surface.    International  Quarterly, 
July,  1900. 

Thomas  Henry  Huxley,  Life  and  Letters.  Critic,  March,  1901. 

American  Quality.  International  Quarterly,  July,  1901. 

Future  Supply  of  Gold.  Id.,  November,  1901. 
-  Proposed  Appalachian  Park.  North  American  Review,  December,  1901. 

Nature  of  Volcanoes.  Id.,  July,  1902. 


LIST  OF  PUBLICATIONS  457 

Teaching  Geology.  New  Educational  Association,  1903. 
Plant  and  Animal  Intelligence.  Harper's  Magazine,  July,  1903. 
Human  Personality.  Independent,  May,  1903. 
Natural  History  of  War.  International  Quarterly,  September,  1903. 
A  Comparison  of  the  Features  of  the  Earth  and  Moon.  Smithsonian  Contri- 
butions to  Knowledge,  vol.  xxxiv;  1903. 


INDEX 


INDEX 


ABOLITION  and  Abolitionists,  79,  82, 
85,  86,  112,  113,  242. 

Acland,  Dr.  Henry  W.,  262,  263,  264. 

Adams,  John  Quincy,  78. 

Administrative  work,  Shaler's,  386- 
401. 

.Etna,  318,  319,  321;  study  of,  405- 
406. 

Agassiz,  Louis,  90,  92;  Shaler's  first 
meeting  with,  93 ;  personal  quality 
of,  94 ;  his  ease  in  captivating  men, 
94-95;  his  methods  of  teaching, 
95-96,  103-104;  his  laboratory, 
95,  96,  97,  98,  100,  127,  128;  Sha- 
ler's first  work  under,  97-99 ;  qual- 
ity of  his  lectures,  101;  a  note  of 
Shaler's  on,  103  n.\  bouts  with  Wil- 
liam B.  Rogers,  105, 116-117;  106, 
107,  110,  111,  113,  114,  115,  118; 
some  students  of,  119-129 ;  distress 
of,  at  outbreak  of  the  Civil  War,  170- 
171;  work  of  his  students,  179, 180, 
181;  swift  accumulation  of  collec- 
tions and  books  for  his  establish- 
ment, 182 ;  188,  189,  190,  191, 194, 
195,  200-201,  208,  209,  225,  226; 
letters  by,  226-227,  250,  251,  270, 
271,  297-298;  letters  by  Shaler  to, 
248;  a  dinner  party  at  his  house, 
363;  426. 

Agassiz,  Mrs.,  298. 

Agassiz's  glacial  theory,  265. 

Agassiz 's  museum.  See  Museum  of 
Comparative  Zoology. 

Albany,  Ky.,  287. 

Alder  Mine,  the,  335. 

Aldrich,  Thomas  Bailey,  428,  429. 

Aletsch  glacier,  229. 

Alexandria,  Egypt,  402. 

"Alfred  the  Great,"  443. 

Algiers,  William  Shaler's  Sketches  of, 
7;  memorial  of  William  Shaler  in, 
7;  193. 


All  Souls  College,  Oxford,  Eng.,  262. 

Alps,  228;  great  glaciers  of,  229;  234, 
235. 

"American  Highways,"  427. 

American  Social  Science  Associations, 
249. 

"Americans"  vs.  Provincials,  143, 
144,  158. 

Anderson,  John,  272. 

Anderson  School,  271. 

Andover,  Me.,  136. 

Andover  Theological  Seminary,  433. 

Andrew,  Gov.  John  A.,  197. 

Animals,  Shaler's  early  interest  in, 
49;  childhood  studies  of  spiders, 
insects,  and  birds,  49-50 ;  first  ac- 
quaintance with  a  menagerie,  52; 
playing  with  the  elephant  and  the 
camel,  53;  companionship  with 
dogs,  53,  180;  a  small  collection  of 
living,  184,  185;  study  in  Dresden 
Zoological  Gardens,  241. 

Anticosti,  island,  expedition  to,  139- 
160;  description  of,  150-152;  col- 
lecting fossils  on,  152-153;  bear- 
hunting,  153-154;  an  unpleasant 
adventure,  154-155 ;  another  hunt- 
ing incident,  155-156 ;  loneliness  of 
life  on  the  island,  156;  the  light- 
house-keepers, 156-157;  tale  of  the 
original  gun  on  Bad  Rock,  157; 
an  admirable  hermitage,  157 ;  158, 
159,  160,  162;  scientific  results  of 
the  expedition,  166-168;  171,  188, 
253,  425. 

Anticosti  lighthouses,  162. 

Appalachian  system,  162. 

Appleton  Chapel,  411,  422. 

Aquaria,  206. 

Archaean  district  of  Canada,  54. 

Architectural  School,  355. 

Argyle,  Duke  of,  259,  260. 

Aristocracy,  a  landed,  33. 


462 


INDEX 


Arkansas  River,  297. 

"Armada  Days,"  439,  440. 

Arno,  the  river,  302,  303,  309. 

Arnold,  Major,  at  Fort  Independence, 
174. 

Arthur's  Seat,  265. 

Artistic  abominations,  307. 

Arts  and  Sciences,  faculty  of,  369. 

Ashland,  Ky.,  220. 

"Aspects  of  the  Earth,"  427. 

Astronomy,  Shaler's  boyhood  inter- 
est in,  55,  56. 

Athens,  404 ;  study  of  the  Parthenon 
and  an  engineering  feat  for  Har- 
vard men  conceived,  404 ;  405. 

Atkinson,  Edward,  432  n. 

Atlantic  Monthly,  articles  by  N.  S. 
Shaler  in,  cited,  219,  254,  289,  430. 

Atlantic  Ocean,  297,  334. 

"Aunt  C ,"  Shaler's  maternal 

great-aunt,  description  of,  20-21. 

Autobiography,  3-212,  218,  228;  be- 
gun in  Egypt,  403. 

Auvergne,  237. 

Azores,  355. 

B.,  Captain,  of  Salins,  233. 

B s,  the,  285. 

Baiae,  Italy,  319. 

Bailey,  anti-slavery  editor  in  Ken- 
tucky, 85. 

Bangor,  Me.,  252. 

Bar  Harbor,  134. 

Barbecues,  41. 

Barlow,  telescope-maker,  56. 

Bay  of  Fundy,  141. 

Beacon  Hill,  Boston,  193. 

Beacon  Park  track,  94. 

Beacon  Street,  Boston,  193,  198. 

Bears,  black,  on  the  island  of  Anti- 
costi,  153-154. 

Beaumont's,  Elie  de,  "Systeme  des 
Montagnes,"  190-191,  192,  228. 

Beckham,  C.  W.,  277  n. 

Bee  Spring,  Camp  at,  281. 

Belmont  market  gardens,  a  story  of 
Huxley,  346. 

Bentley,  Richard,  258. 


Benton  Farm,  the,  224. 

Berkenridge  New  Ferry,  4. 

Berry,  Albert  S.,  300. 

Big  Bone  Lick,  247. 

Big  Sandy  River,  281. 

Billings,  Elkanah,  139. 

Bird  Rock,  145-146;  an  adventure 
upon,  146-147;  148. 

Birds,  early  interest  of  Shaler  in,  49 ; 
mating  pigeons,  50 ;  training  game- 
cocks, 50-51. 

Biscayne,  Fla.,  330. 

Blue  Hills,  the,  368. 

Blumhardt,  Father,  243,  246. 

Board  of  Overseers  of  Harvard  Col- 
lege, 388. 

Boll,  Wiirttemberg,  244 ;  a  faith-cure 
hotel  at,  245. 

Bond,  William  Cranch,  104. 

Boone,  Daniel,  33. 

Booth,  Edwin,  182. 

Border  states,  86. 

Boston,  68,  69,  103,  104,  109,  114, 
115,  116,  117,  120,  121,  136,  139, 
160,  163,  183,  184,  185,  186,  193, 
194, 197,  200;  walks  in  the  country 
about,  201-202,  204,205,  248;  255, 
283;  "Boston  somewhere  near 
Cambridge,"  290;  324,  348;  field 
days  in  neighborhood  of,  368 ;  377, 
384,  390,  417. 

Boston  Basin,  The,  115. 

Boston  Bay,  368. 

Boston  celebrities,  193-199. 

Boston  Common,  198. 

Boston  Daily  Advertiser,  quoted,  368. 

Boston  Society  of  Natural  History, 
104,  105,  110,  116,  182,  419;  Pro- 
ceedings of  the,  427. 

Boston  Theatre,  183. 

Bostonians,  290. 

Bounty-catchers,  135. 

Bow  Street,  Cambridge,  254, 296, 347. 

Bow  Street,  No.  13,  254,  296, 344. 

Boxing,  Shaler's  bouts  with  his  tutor 

at  Harvard,  91. 

Brachiopods,  100, 180;  the  Anticosti, 
425 ;  fossil,  of  the  Ohio  Valley,  426. 


INDEX 


463 


Bragg,  Gen.  Braxton,  126,  219,  220. 
Brattle  House,  Cambridge,  187. 
Brattle  Street,  Cambridge,  187. 
Breckenridge,  Elder,  73. 
Breckenridge,  John  C.,  73,  86,  171, 

173. 

Briggs,  Le  Baron  R.,  392. 
Brigham's  oyster-shop,  183. 
"Bristoe,"  a  slave,  38-39. 
Broadhorn,  84. 
Brown,  D.  S.,  cabinet  and  collections 

of,  182. 

Brown,  John,  the,  raid,  195. 
Brown,  John  Mason,  173,  432. 
Brown-Sequard,  Dr.  Charles  fidouard, 

322 ;  adventures  of  a  gift  to  Huxley 

from,  322-323. 
Brussels,  242. 

Buckner,  Gen.  Simon  B.,  171, 172. 
Buell,  Gen.  Don  Carlos,  220. 
Buffalo,  N.  Y.,  68,  289. 
Bull  Run,  163,  170. 
Bunker  Hill,  Battle  of,  an  ancient 

with  memories  of,  136. 
"Burial  Place,  The,"  221. 
Butte,  Montana,  notable  legal  contest 

in,  338,  339;  398. 
"Button,  Bill,"  13. 

C ,  281,  289. 

C ,  a  Mr.,  of  Minnesota,  290. 

Cairo,  Egypt,  402-403. 

Calhoun,  John  C.,  82. 

Cambridge,  44,  69,  79,  90,  96,  100, 
107,  109,  120,  121,  125,  136,  170, 
174, 182, 186, 192, 193 ;  the  College 
circle  in,  199,  207,  216,  240;  pro- 
posed Zoological  Garden  in,  241; 
the  Shaler  homes  in,  253,  254,  286, 
296,  344,  345,  348,  359;  258,  260; 
"Boston  somewhere  near  Cam- 
bridge," 290;  293,  351,  353,  356; 
the  Cambridge  of  the  Eighteen- 
seventies,  363;  a  dinner  party  at 
Agassiz's,  363-364;  377;  enter- 
tainment of  students,  379,  403; 
411,  412,  426,  441. 

Cambridge  celebrities,  193,  199-200. 


Cambridge,  Eng.,  191,  258,  259,  260, 
261,  376. 

Cambridge  University,  191,  376. 

Camp  Clay,  220. 

Camp  Dick  Robinson,  173. 

Camp  Harvard,  Cumberland  Gap, 
369. 

Campbell  County,  Ky.,  17,  33,  36. 

Campobello,  island,  325. 

Camps  and  camping,  in  Mount  De- 
sert, 134;  in  the  Umbagog  Lakes 
country,  135-137;  Camp  Harvard, 
Cumberland  Gap,  273-275,  289- 
290,  369;  elsewhere  in  Kentucky, 
281,  294,  295;  on  Hoosac  Moun- 
tain, 282-283;  Alleghany  camps, 
285;  on  Martha's  Vineyard,  350; 
at  Squam  Lake,  351. 

Canada,  54,  83,  139. 

Canada  Survey,  the,  139. 

Cape  Ann,  report  upon  the  geology 
of,  343. 

Cape  Ann  fishermen,  143,  144. 

Cape  Breton  fishermen,  at  Anticosti, 
158 ;  compared  with  the  New  Eng- 
land sailors,  159;  courtesies  ex- 
changed with,  159. 

Card-playing,  old  time,  in  Kentucky, 
72,  73. 

Carolinas,  the,  66,  252. 

Carrara,  peaks  of,  313. 

"Carroll,  Lewis,"  and  "Alice  in  Won- 
derland," 262. 

Catskills,  68. 

Celebrities,  Cambridge  and  Boston, 
193-206. 

Centennial  Exhibition,  Philadelphia, 
275,  288. 

Certosa,  Italy,  302,  309. 

Chamberlain,  Montague,  372. 

Channing,  Dr.  Walter,  12. 

Charles  River,  206,  258. 

Charlestown,  199,  203. 

Chickamauga,  123,  124. 

Child,  Francis  James,  418. 

Chilmark,  Mass.,  346,  347. 

Chilmarks,  the  English  and  American, 
and  Rudyard  Kipling,  346-347. 


464 


INDEX 


Christ  Church,  Oxford,  Eng.,  262. 

Cincinnati,  31,  32,  43,  44,  55; 
Mitchel's  observatory  in,  55;  56, 
58;  notable  group  of  Germans  in, 
62 ;  63 ;  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  in, 
85;  fortifications  of,  88-89,  219, 
242,  281,  288. 

"Citizen,  The,"  217,  427,  435. 

Civil  War,  Kentucky  Unionists  in  the, 
14;  41,  43,  46,  73,  74,  75;  Ken- 
tucky's losses  by  the,  76;  82,  86, 
88,  120;  a  story  of  the,  123-124; 
126,  127,  141,  157,  159,  163;  first 
year  of,  170-178;  situation  in  Ken- 
tucky at  the  outbreak  of,  171 ;  186, 
187,  188,  197,  207,  216;  Shaler's 
battery  in,  219,  221-223 ;  Shaler's 
treatment  of,  in  his  "  Kentucky," 
432;  his  poems  of  the,  443. 

Clay,  Cassius  M.,  85. 

Clay,  Henry,  82. 

Cleveland,  President  Grover,  249. 

Cleveland,  Richard  Jeffry,  his  "Nar- 
rative of  Voyages  and  Commercial 
Enterprises"  cited,  5. 

Cleveland,  0.,  68,  287. 

Coal  Swamps  of  the  Eastern  United 
States,  report  upon,  343. 

Coast  Survey.  See  United  States 
Coast  Survey. 

Coast  Survey  Camp,  282,  283. 

Cock-fighting,  50,  51,  52. 

Cohasset,  Mass.,  284. 

College  companions,  118-129. 

College  gymnasium,  97. 

College  library,  182. 

"College  teas,"  363. 

College  Yard,  the,  344,  348,  361, 
377. 

Colonial  Club,  Cambridge,  345. 

Colonists  of  Kentucky,  33,  76. 

Colorado,  296,  297,  308. 

Columbus,  Ky.,  293. 

Confederacy.  See  Southern  Confed- 
eracy. 

Confederate  army,  121, 163, 171, 173, 
219,  220,  223 ;  the  Confederate  sol- 
dier, 432. 


Confederates  in  Kentucky,  171,  172, 

173. 

Connecticut,  150,  199,  291. 
Connecticut  Valley,  4,  125. 
Conroy  Mine,  408. 
Cook,  Caleb,  97. 
Cooke,  Josiah  P.,  Ill,  124,  180,  190, 

208. 
Coolidge,  Philip  Sidney,  121;  story 

of,  121-123,  124,  208. 
Corey  Hill,  Brookline,  410. 
Corfu,  405. 

Gorman,  Charles,  332. 
Cosmos  Club,  Washington,  D.  C.,  414. 
Cotta,  Bernhard  von,  243. 
Country  living,  348-360. 
County  fairs,  41. 
Covington,  Ky.,  79. 
Crandell,  A.  R.,  277  n. 
Crittenden,  J.  J.,  73. 
Cruising  and  Camping,  130-138. 
Cuba,  5,  7,  12,  240. 
Cumberland  Gap,  summer  school  at, 

273 ;  incidents  of,  273 ;  a  rattlesnake 

episode,  273-275 ;  289-290, 295, 369. 
Cumberland  River,  279. 
"Curtius,"443. 
Cushman,  Charlotte,  182. 
Cuvier's  "Le  Regne  Animal,"  180. 

Daffodils,  cultivation  of,  at  "Seven 
Gates,"  351,  356. 

Dana,  Edward  S.,  227. 

Danville,  Ky.,  291. 

Darwin,  Charles  R.,  257,  439. 

Darwin,  W.  E.,  351. 

Darwinism,  105,  110,  128-129,  181. 

Davenport,  E.  L.,  182. 

Davis,  Jefferson,  88. 

Davis,  William  M.,  418,  426. 

Debating  society,  Kentucky,  dis- 
cussions of  States'  Rights  in,  86- 
87. 

Deerfield,  Mass.,  298. 

Democratic  party,  291. 

Dent  du  Midi,  228,  296. 

Denver,  Col.,  296;  in  1879,  297;  398. 

Devonshire,  Duke  of,  259. 


INDEX 


465 


Digger  Indian,  398. 

Divinity  Hall,  121,  179. 

Dixwell,  Epes  Sargent,  69,  90,  199- 
200,  242. 

"  Domesticated  Animals,"  427,  429. 

Douglas,  Stephen  A.,  80. 

Dredging  expeditions,  130-133;  in- 
cidents of,  131-132. 

Dresden,  238;  water  cure  in,  238- 
240,  242;  the  Zoological  Garden 
in,  241 ;  the  Isis  Society,  241 ;  242. 

Drill  Club,  in  Cambridge,  174,  183. 

Duel,  the,  in  Kentucky,  42-43; 
challenge  received  by  Shaler,  46; 
second  in,  47 ;  maxims  of,  48. 

Durham  Cathedral,  268-269. 

"Eager  Muster,  The,"  221. 
Eagle  Lake,  Mount  Desert,  134. 
Earthquakes,  papers  on,  430. 
"East  Tennesseans,"  21. 
Eastport,   Me.,    132-133,    139,    141, 

163,  252,  253. 
Edinburgh,  257,  266,  438. 
Egypt,  visit  to,  402,  403. 
Elephants,  fossil  remains  of,  247. 
Eliot,  Charles  W.,  251,  280,  297,  345, 

364,  369,  379,  395,  396,  400,  417, 

418. 

Elizabeth  Islands,  145. 
"  Elizabeth  of  England,"  quoted,  301 ; 

427,  438,  439,  441,  442,  445. 
Ellis  Bay,  Anticosti,  158,  159. 
Ely  Cathedral,  260-261. 
Emancipation  party,  86. 
Emerson,  George,  124-127,  196,  201. 
Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  262,  363. 
England,  41,  200,  228,  229,  231,  242; 

visits  to,  255-269,  270,  271,  272, 

299;  309,  407,  426. 
English  Geological  Survey,  289. 
English  hotels,  267. 
Entry  Island,  145. 
Escher,  Johannes,  a  Swiss  tutor,  60, 

61;  teachings  and  philosophy  of, 

61;  inducts  young  Shaler  into  the 

mystery  of  Hegel,  62;  90,  91,  102, 

209. 


Europe,  journeyings  in,  228-246, 
247,  265,  299,  312,  313;  400. 

Europeans,  197,  198. 

Evans,  Dr.  Thomas  W.,  Paris,  238. 

Evolution,  Shaler's  early  teaching  of 
the  principles  of,  216. 

"  Exhaustion  of  the  World's  Metals, 
The,"  cited,  335. 

Expeditions,  along  the  Maine  coast, 
130;  to  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence, 
139-149 ;  on  the  Labrador  shore, 
160-163;  various  scientific  expe- 
ditions, 253 ;  on  the  Florida  coast, 
330-331. 

Faith  cure  at  Boll,  245-246. 
Far  West,  41,  337,  341,  378. 
Federal  army,  120,  123,  124,  163, 

173, 197,  199,  211;  N.  S.  Shaler  in, 

219-223. 

"Federalist,  The,"  86. 
Fen  country,  Eng.,  261. 
Fencing,  Shaler's  training  in,  43-44, 

45;  a  bout  with  Agassiz,  96. 
Felton,  Cornelius  C.,  69,  190. 
Feudal  system,  in  the  settlement  of 

Kentucky,  32-33 ;  349. 
Field  Days.   See  "  Prof essor  Shaler's 

Field  Days." 
"Field  Geology,"  427. 
Field  work,  1873-1879,  270-298. 
Fields,  James  T.,  428. 
Fifth  Avenue  Troop,  280. 
Fifth  Kentucky  Battery,  219,  220, 

221. 
Fighting  and  fighters,  34;  fighting 

propensities  of  early  Kentuckians, 

41,  42 ;  anecdote  of  Sam  McLaugh- 

lin,  fighter,  42;  44,  49,  119. 
Figline,  Italy,  307,  308. 
Finnell,  John  W.,  172. 
"First  Book  of  Geology,  The,"  426; 

translations  of,  427. 
First  Kentucky  Confederate  Brigade, 

433. 

Fishing  ships,  types  of,  144-145. 
Fiske,  John,  a  little  story  of,  187. 
Florence,  Italy,  78,  299;  walks  in  and 


466 


INDEX 


about,  299-300;  302;  tramps  into 

its  ancient  environs,  302 ;  along  the 

way  to  Impruneta,  302-304 ;  town 

and  country  folk,  304,  309;  311, 

314,  317,  318,  319,  322,  324. 
Florida,   247,   330;   impressions   of, 

331;   an   adventure   in,   331-332; 

334. 
Foley,  of  Kentucky,  119-120,   135, 

173. 
Forbes,  James  D.,  228. 

Forbes, ,  382. 

Foreword,  1859-1862,  215. 

Fort  Independence,  Boston  Harbor, 

174,  175,  176. 

Fort  Warren,  Boston  Harbor,  197. 
Fossils,  100,  153,  229,  244,  247;  col- 
lections sent  to  Dom  Pedro,  298; 

in  Italy,  314,  316;  426. 
France,  228;  incidents  of  travel  in 

out-of-the-way    parts,    230;    231, 

237,  238. 
Franco-Italian-Austrian    War,    122, 

157. 
Frankfort,  Ky.,  46,  70;  description 

of,   in  Shaler's    boyhood,  71-72; 

73,  74,  75,-  171,  211,  278,  280,  287, 

288,  291,  292,  293. 
Freiberg,  242;  School  of  Mines  in, 

243 ;  a  German  household,  243-244. 
French  Revolution,  5,  210. 
Frenchman's  Bay,  131,  133 
Fresh  Pond,  414. 
"From  Old  Fields,"  221,  427,  443, 

444. 
Frontiersmen,    34,    41;    Kentucky 

type  of,  165. 

Galton,  Francis,  257. 

Game-cocks,  50;  young  Shaler's  in- 
terest in  battles  of,  51 ;  52,  53. 

Garibaldi,  recollections  of,  320. 

Gasp6,  161-162;  an  interesting  geo- 
logical field,  162-163. 

Gay  Head,  115,  351. 

"General's  Yarn,  The,"  221. 

Geodetic  and  Geological  Survey,  249. 

Geoffrys,  257. 


Geological  excursion.  See  "  Professor 
Shaler's  Field  Days." 

Geological  Record,  289. 

Geological  Reports,  Government  and 
State,  426,  427,  428;  429,  430. 

Geological  Surveys,  Kentucky,  224; 
United  States,  247. 

Geology,  Shaler's  early  speculations 
in,  53-54 ;  study  of,  under  Agassiz, 
100,  101,111;  field  work,  115;  117; 
on  the  coast  of  Labrador,  160 ;  in 
Gaspe',  161-163;  180;  Shaler's 
methods  of  instruction  in,  225,248, 
272,  280;  various  reports  upon, 
275,  283, 343 ;  Agassiz's  instruction, 
297;  Shaler's  lectures  to  his  stu- 
dents, 365-366;  "Natural  History 
Five,"  afterward  "Geology  Four," 
367-368;  "  Professor  Shaler's  Field 
Days,"  368-369. 

"  Geology  of  Boston  and  its  Environs, 
The,"  426. 

"Geology  of  Roads,"  report  on,  430. 

George,  the  cook,  140,  141,  147,  152, 
153. 

"Georgians,  The,"  221. 

Germany,  90;  travels  in,  238;  visits 
to  Dresden,  238-243;  to  Freiberg, 
243-244 ;  to  out-of-the-way  places, 
244,  245. 

Gilman,  Arthur,  373. 

Glaciers,  228;  great  glaciers  of  the 
Alps,  229;  Shaler's  book  on,  426. 

Glasgow,  266. 

Glenn,  William,  118. 

Gloucester  fishermen,  143,  144. 

Goebel,  Gov.  William,  73. 

Gould,  Augustus  A.,  109. 

Gould,  Benjamin  Apthorp,  104. 

Government  post,  Newport,  Ky.,  27, 
31,  39,  55,  59. 

Government  Surveys,  249. 

Graduate  School  of  Applied  Science. 
See  Lawrence  Scientific  School. 

Grand  Manan,  132,  133. 

Grant,  Gen.  Ulysses  S.,  174. 

Gray,  Asa,  104,  105;  Shaler's  rela- 
tions with,  110;  113,  190,  208. 


INDEX 


467 


Grayson,  Ky.,  284. 

Grayson  Springs,  279,  281,  285. 

Great  Britain,  139. 

"  Great  Raid,  The,"  222. 

Greece,  visit  to,  403-405. 

Green.  See  Fiske,  John. 

Green  Mountain,  Mount  Desert,  134. 

Greenfield,  Mass.,  79,  125,  126. 

Greenland,  140. 

Greenough,  Horatio,  69. 

Greenwood,  Master,  222. 

Greylock,  68. 

Grindelwald,  glacier  of,  229. 

Grindrod,  Dr.,  of  Malvern,  255. 

Guescard,  Prof.,  in  Naples,  319. 

Gugenheimer,  in  Agassiz's  labora- 
tory, 97. 

Guides.  See  Italian  guides,  Swiss 
guides,  and  Tuscan  guide. 

Guinea-pig,  adventures  with  a  sa- 
vant's, 322-323. 

Guinitz,  Prof.,  Dresden,  241. 

Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence,  expedition  to 
the,  139-169;  142, 144, 145;  results 
from  the  expedition  to,  165-168; 
discomforts  and  dangers  of  the  ex- 
pedition, 168-169. 

Gulf  Stream,  356. 

Gut  of  Canso,  142,  143,  144,  163. 

H.,  Major,  48. 

Haddam,  Conn.,  ancestors  of  Shaler 
there,  4. 

Hall,  James,  227. 

Hamilton,  Ky.,  281. 

Hammond,  Surgeon-General,  14. 

Hannibal's  old  camping-ground,  406. 

Hansen,  a  Swede,  learned  in  Scan- 
dinavian languages,  118. 

Hanson,  Roger,  of  Kentucky,  171. 

Harte,  Bret,  363. 

Harvard  alumni,  389,  390. 

Harvard  Club  dinners,  401. 

Harvard  College  and  University,  N. 
B.  Shaler  in,  12,  69;  N.  S.  Shaler 
in,  13,  43,  44,  75,  79,  90-163;  111, 
117,  121,  126,  135;  Shaler's  last 
year  in,  179-192;  193,  194,  208, 


209;  the  College  circle,  199;  the 
faculty,  199;  200,  207,  249,  250, 
251,  270,  271,  272,  275,  282,  297; 
Gordon  McKay's  gift  to,  328,  335 ; 
363,  364,  369,  370,  372,  373,  378, 
379,  382,  386,  387,  388,  391,  395, 
411,  434. 

Harvard  corporation,  387,  388. 

Harvard  Divinity  School,  69. 

Harvard  faculty,  388,  389;  part 
played  by  Shaler  in  meetings  of, 
392-395;  396. 

Harvard  Law  School,  184. 

Harvard  Medical  School,  N.  B.  Sha- 
ler in,  53,  69. 

Harvard  Natural  History  Society, 
251. 

Harvard  Observatory,  121,  208. 

Harvard  Summer  School,  258,  272; 
organization  of,  369 ;  advancement 
of,  369-370,  372;  the  opening  re- 
ception, 372;  373,  408. 

Harvard  University  Gazette,  quoted, 
366. 

Hasty  Pudding  Club,  97. 

Haussmann,  Baron,  237 ;  Haussmann- 
ized  Florence,  302. 

Havana,  William  Shaler  consul  at, 
5,  7;  N.  B.  Shaler  physician  in,  12. 

Head,  Low,  139,  142. 

Heidelberg,  90. 

Helena,  Mont.,  326. 

Helmholtz's  theories,  228. 

Henderson,  Ky.,  a  wise  farmer  of, 
432  n. 

Henry  Clay  Whigs,  82. 

Hereford,  Eng.,  267;  Herefordshire 
cider,  267;  the  ancient  cathedral, 
267. 

Heth,  Gen.  Henry,  219. 

Hickman,  Ky.,  286. 

Hillard,  George  S.,  197,  198. 

Hillsboro,  Fla.,  332. 

Hinde,  Dr.  John,  19-20;  surgeon  in 
the  British  navy,  19;  in  Virginia, 
20;  with  Wolfe  at  Quebec,  20; 
figured  in  Benjamin  West's  paint- 
ing, 20;  anecdotes  of,  20;  his 


468 


INDEX 


death  at  nearly  a  hundred  years, 
his  wife  then  ninety,  20;  22. 

Hinde.Mrs.  John  (born  Hubbard),  20. 

Hingham,  Mass.,  225,  284. 

Holmes,  Oliver  Wendell,  363,  430. 

Hoosac  Mountain,  282,  283. 

Hoosac  Tunnel,  282. 

Hopkins,  William,  191. 

Horsford,  Eben  N.,  124,  190. 

Hospitality  North  and  South,  201. 

Hotchkiss,  326. 

"How  to  Change  the  American  Cli- 
mate," 430. 

Howells,  William  D.,  363,  430. 

Howgate,  H.  W.,  278. 

Hubbard.  See  Mrs.  John  Hinde. 

Hudson's  Bay  Station,  160;  Indian 
trading  at,  160-161. 

Humboldt,  Tenn.,  293. 

Hunt,  T.  Sterry,  283. 

Hunting,  66 ;  bears  on  Anticosti,  153- 
154,  155. 

Huntington,  Edward,  396. 

"Hurricanes,"  429. 

Hutton,  James,  265. 

Huxley,  Thomas  H.,  256,  257,  322; 
his  visit  to  Cambridge,  anecdote  of, 
346. 

Hyatt,  Alpheus,79,97,  120-121,  124, 
126,  130,  139,  141,  155,  163,  146, 
201,  284,  420. 

Iceland,  140. 

Illinois,  80,  341. 

Impruneta,  Italy,  a  tramp  from  Flo- 
rence to,  302-304;  description  of, 
304 ;  a  unique  Tuscan  guide,  304, 
305,  306;  primitive  industries  of 
the  peasants,  305;  serpentines  at, 
305,  306. 

Indian  River,  330. 

Indian  wars,  with  the  Illinois  Indians, 
40;  tales  of  old  Indian  fighters, 
40-41. 

Indiana,  291. 

Indians,  39 ;  how  to  "  manage  an  In- 
jun," 40;  41, 151;  trading,  of  Lab- 
rador, 160-161. 


"Individual,  The,"  217,  425,  427, 
433,  435,  436,  438. 

"Infant  Hayes,"  120. 

Inns,  a  French  country  inn,  233- 
234;  English  inns,  285;  Italian  vil- 
lage inn,  305;  in  Rome,  319. 

Insects,  boyish  studies  of,  49,  84,  96. 

"Interpretation  of  Nature,  The," 
425,  427,  428,  433,  434. 

Ironbound  Island,  131;  an  amateur 
Grecian  at,  131-132. 

Ischia,  Italy,  319. 

Isis  Society,  Dresden,  241. 

Italian  country  and  farm  life,  303, 
304,  305,  306,  308,  310,  311;  Tus- 
can women  drawing  heavily  laden 
carts,  315. 

Italian  guides,  304;  character  of,  to 
geological  localities,  314,  315,  317. 

Italian  patois,  317. 

Italian  peasantry,  303,  304,  305,  306, 
309,  310,  311 ;  a  typical  contadino 
home,  315-316;  317;  old  and  mod- 
ern customs  of,  in  Naples,  320. 

Italian  shepherd,  an  ancient,  on  a  hill- 
top, 307-308. 

Italian  soldier,  the,  299-300. 

Italian  villages,  302,  304-306,  307, 

309,  320. 

Italian  villas,  303 ;  as  country  places, 

310,  315. 

Italy,  62,  78;  visits  to,  236-237,  299- 
321. 

Jackson,  Charles  T.,  12,  53,  69,  100, 

104,   105;   qualities   of,    109-110; 

207. 
Jackson,   Gen.  James,   duellist,  46 ; 

anecdote  of,  46-47. 
Jackson,  James,  of  Kentucky,  173. 
Jackson,  Ky.,  295. 
Jackson  Purchase,  the,  32. 
Jacksonville,  Fla.,  331. 
Jacquard,  Monsieur,  232. 
Jamaica,  ancestors  of  Shaler  there,  4. 
James,  William,  359,  400,  418;  letter 

of,  on  "The  Individual,"  436-438; 

on  "From  Old  Fields,"  443-444. 


INDEX 


469 


Jardin  des  Plantes,  238. 
Jarvis  Street,  Cambridge,  97. 
Jefferson,  Thomas,  16,  121,  158, 194. 
Jews  in  Boston,  384. 
Johnson,  Stoddard,  292. 
Johnston,  Gen.  Albert  Sydney,  174. 
Journal,  Mrs.  Shaler's,  261;  quoted, 

261-263,  264,  265,  266-269. 
Journal,  Shaler's,  quoted,  215-216, 

374,  433-434,  440. 
Journal  of  Geography,  quoted,  367. 
Jura,  the,  235. 

Kansas  City,  296. 

Keene,  N.  H.,  92,  93. 

Kentuckians,  141,  223. 

Kentucky,  12,  14,  19,  31 ;  settlement 
of,  32;  the  feudal  system,  33;  re- 
semblance of  the  tenant  whites  to 
the  English  cotter  class,  34,  35; 
slave-owners  in,  36;  48,  49,  56; 
eastern  Kentucky,  66 ;  some  Ken- 
tucky magnates,  71-79;  80;  po- 
litical life  in,  immediately  preced- 
ing the  Civil  War,  82 ;  customs  of 
the  early  days  in  large  households, 
83;  "living  within  yourself,"  83, 
84;  86,  87,  94,  96,  119,  123,  126, 
138,  139,  140 ;  situation  in,  at  the 
outbreak  of  the  Civil  War,  141, 
171-172,  173;  165,  168,  186,  192, 
195,  198,  203,  209,  211,  219;  the 
war  in,  220-223 ;  224,  242, 247,  260, 
269;  geological  survey  of,  270-271, 
273-281,  282,  283,  289-296;  329, 
369,  415,  417,  419,  426,  431,  432, 
433. 

"Kentucky:  A  Pioneer  Common- 
wealth," cited,  219  n.\  223,  426, 
431-433. 

Kentucky  farmers,  432  n. 

Kentucky  Geological  Survey,  224, 
270;  Shaler  director  of,  271,  273- 
281 ;  Reports  on,  275, 276-277, 426  ; 
episodes  in  the  work  of,  276-278; 
letters  written  during  its  progress, 
278-282,  284-288,  289-296;  432. 

Kentucky  habit,  a,  353. 


Kentucky  Legislature,  275,  276,  278, 

280,  287,  288,  292. 
Kentucky  mountains,  432  n. 
Kentucky  Resolutions  of  1798,  86. 
Kentucky  River,  74,  291. 
Kentucky  Unionists,  the,  14. 
Key  West,  330. 
Kidd,  Capt.,  treasures  of,  158. 
King  John  of  Saxony,  198. 
King's  Mountain,  136. 
Kingston,  Canada,  329. 
Kipling,    Rudyard,    in    Cambridge, 

346;  a  little  story  of,  346-347. 
Know-Nothing  party,  203. 

La  Grange,  Ky.,  280. 

Labrador,  144,  150,  159;  expedition 
in,  160-163,  164. 

Lake  Erie,  68. 

Lake  Geneva,  228. 

Lake  Worth,  330,  331. 

Lamb, ,  97. 

Lancaster,  Mass.,  home  of  Abigail 
Stilwell  in,  9;  N.  B.  Shaler  at 
school  in,  12,  68. 

Landscape,  Shaler's  love  of,  355-356. 

Lauderdale  Station,  331. 

"Law  of  Fashion,"  430. 

Lawrence,  Mr.,  277. 

Lawrence,  Bishop,  411. 

Lawrence  Scientific  School,  95,  105, 
106,  110,  111,  117,  120,  126,  208, 
225,  240,  270,  289,  334,  339,  350; 
Shaler  made  dean  of,  386 ;  his  ad- 
ministration work  in,  387,  390-391 ; 
Gordon  McKay's  bequest  to,  387; 
the  proposed  "merger"  with  the 
Mass.  Institute  of  Technology,  387, 
389,  390;  change  of  name,  to  the 
Graduate  School  of  Applied  Sci- 
ence, 387;  392,  395,  396,  400,  404, 
409,  411,  421. 

Lawrences,  the,  John  and  Henry, 
229. 

Lawrences,  the,  of  Boston,  198. 

Le  Locle,  232. 

Leadville,  Col.,  297;  mining-camp 
near,  297. 


470 


INDEX 


Lectures,  Shaler's  courses  in  the 
Lowell  Institute,  333,  401;  notes 
for  his  college  lectures  quoted, 
365-366;  his  course  "Natural 
History  Five,"  afterward  "  Geology 
Four,"  367-368;  course  at  the  An- 
dover  Theological  Seminary,  433. 

Lee,  Gen.  Robert  E.,  12,  174. 

Lesley,  J.  Peter,  227. 

Leslie,  Gov.  Preston  H.,   270,   278, 

279,  287,  288,  291. 

Letters,  by  Shaler,  quoted,  216,  217; 
from  camp  in  the  Civil  War,  220; 
225;  from  Dresden,  242 ;  248;  from 
Martha's  Vineyard,  251-252 ;  from 
Mount  Desert,  252,  253;  during  the 
Kentucky  Geological  Survey,  277, 
278-282,  284-288,  289,  290-296; 
the  Coast  Survey  in  New  England, 
282,  283,  284;  from  Colorado  and 
other  mining  regions,  296-297, 397- 
398, 409 ;  from  Italy,  300,  301,  318- 
319;  familiar  letters  from  various 
places,  1882-1883,  325-327,  328- 
331,  333,  426;  to  Shaler  from 
Agassiz,  250-251,  271,  297;  283, 
284,  289;  to  Shaler  from  Prof. 
James,  400, 436-438;  to  Shaler  from 
others,  429,  430,  432,  432  n.,  434, 
436, 443 ;  to  Mrs.  Shaler,  on  Shaler's 
spirit  and  work,  392-395,  443-444, 
445.  . 

Lewes,  G.  H.,  "History  of  Philoso- 
phy," 63. 

Lexington,  Ky.,  17,  56,  85,  171,  220, 

280,  281,  285,  292. 
Liberian  colonization,  82,  196. 
Libraries  collected  by  Agassiz,  182. 
Lichfield,  Ky.,  282,  327. 
Licking  River,  31,  36,  66,  79,  217. 
Liddell,  Rev.  Henry  George,  262. 
Liddell,  Mrs.,  262,  263. 

Life  Saving  Station,  Florida,  332. 
Lignite    mines    in    Tuscany,    316; 

methods  of  mining,  316-317,  318. 
Lincoln,  Abraham,  79-81. 
"Little  Giant,"    the.    See   Douglas, 

Stephen  A. 


Liverpool,  Eng.,  255. 

Liverpool,  N.  S.,  142,  164. 

Livingstone  mine,  326. 

Loch  Lomond,  266. 

London,  visits  in,  256-258,  426,  431. 

Long  Island,  68,  69. 

Longfellow,  Henry  W.,  199,  363. 

Louisville,  Ky.,  47,  277,  281,  285, 
287,  293. 

Louisville  Journal,  47. 

Love,  James  Lee,  372. 

Lovering,  Joseph,  190. 

Lowell,  Rev.  Charles,  199. 

Lowell,  James  Russell,  111;  charac- 
terization of,  112;  195,  199,  363, 
415. 

Lowell  Institute  Lectures,  333,  401. 

Lowells,  the,  199. 

Lush,  Miss,  of  Albany,  New  York, 
married  to  Wright  Southgate,  of 
Virginia,  16. 

Lyell,  Sir  Charles,  116,  182,  257. 

Lyman,  Theodore,  97,  251. 

M.,  Frau,  239,  241. 

McGee's,  Miss,  boarding-house,  Cam- 
bridge, 187. 

McKay,  Gordon,  295,  296,  297;  Sha- 
ler's associations  with,  327-328; 
death  of,  327;  bequest  of,  to  the 
Lawrence  Scientific  School,  335, 
386,  387,  388;  398,  399,  400. 

McLaughlin,  Sam,  fighter,  42. 

Machias,  Me.,  253. 

"Madame  B.'s  Review,"  221. 

Madison,  Wis.,  326. 

Magoffin,  Gov.  Beriah,  212. 

Maine,  37,  130,  135,  247,  252,  253. 

Maine  lumberman,  the,  138. 

Malvern,  Eng.,  255,  256,  265,  289, 
324. 

Mammoth  Cave,  47,  282,  294. 

"Man  and  the  Earth,"  427,  429. 

Manchester,  Eng.,  231. 

Manchuria,  429. 

Marcou,  Jules,  100,  104;  description 
of,  114-115;  116,  207,  233,  234. 

Marion,  Ky.,  279. 


INDEX 


471 


Mars,  Captain,  44. 

Marshall,  Humphrey,  74,  75. 

Marshall,  John,  74,  75. 

Marshall,  John,  the  jurist,  75. 

Marshall,  Thomas  F.,  74,  75;  curious 
relations  of  Shaler  with,  77-79;  87, 
209. 

Martha's  Vineyard,  115,  251,  332; 
report  upon  the  geology  of,  343; 
347;  "Seven  Gates,"  the  Shaler 
"Farm"  on,  348-354,  359;  geo- 
logical formations  of,  351;  356, 
360,  398,  409. 

Maryland,  120,  163. 

Mason  and  Dixon's  Line,  216. 

Mason  and  Slidell  affair,  264. 

Massachusetts,  68,  110,  120;  shores 
of,  166;  195,  197,  248,  260,  271; 
southeast  Massachusetts,  356. 

Massachusetts  Gypsy  Moth  Commis- 
sion, 396. 

Massachusetts  Highway  Commission, 
396. 

Massachusetts  Institute  of  Tech- 
nology, 117;  corporation  of,  387, 
388;  the  "merger"  with  Harvard 
project,  387,  388,  389,  390;  faculty 
of,  390;  alumni  of,  390. 

Massachusetts  Legislature,  271. 

Massachusetts  Metropolitan  Park 
Commission,  396. 

Matterhorn,  234. 

Mayfield,  Ky.,  294. 

Medford,  Mass.,  204. 

Mediterranean,  voyaging  on  the, 
402. 

Memoir,  The,  215-445. 

"Memorial  History  of  Boston,  The," 
426. 

Mer  de  Glace,  229. 

Mercantile  Library,  Cincinnati,  55, 
56. 

"Merger  "  controversy,  the,  387,  389, 
390,  399,  409. 

Mexican  boundary  survey,  114. 

Mexican  War,  28,  41,  74,  88,  174. 

Mexico,  41,  74,  122. 

Middlesex  Canal,  the  old,  204. 


"Midnight  Venture,  A,"  221. 

Mine  prospecting,  326,  334;  Shaler 
as  a  mining  expert,  335,  336;  his 
attitude  toward  the  "prospector," 
337;  a  Montana  incident,  337-338; 
339. 

Mingan,  Labrador,  159,  160,  161, 
163. 

Mining  in  Italy,  316,  317. 

Mining  camps  and  towns,  297,  340- 
341. 

Mining  life,  340. 

Mining  School,  Freiberg.  See  School 
of  Mines. 

Mississippi,  47. 

Mississippi  River,  adventures  of  Wil- 
liam Shaler  on,  6,  81,  293. 

Mississippi  Valley,  41,  341. 

Missouri,  33. 

Mitchel,  Ormsby  McKnight,  55. 

Monboddo,  Lord,  310. 

Monmouth,  Eng.,  267. 

Monongahela  River,  84. 

Mont  Cervin,  229. 

Montana,  175,  326;  mine  prospect- 
ing in,  337;  338,  397,  398,  408. 

Montauk  Point,  69,  70. 

Monte  Cavo,  406. 

Monte  Ferrato,  306,  307,  308. 

Monte  Morello,  311;  the  climb  to  the 
summit,  312-313,  314. 

Monte  Rosa,  229. 

Montreux,  227,  228,  229,  296. 

"Moon,  The,"  427,  430. 

Moore,  Charles  H.,  265. 

Moore,  P.  M.,  277  n. 

Morgan,  Gen.  John  H.,  74,  221,  222, 
223. 

Morgan's  cavalry,  432,  433. 

Mormons,  398. 

Morristown,  N.  J.,  288. 

Morse,  Edward  S.,  97. 

Morton,  Sam,  82. 

Morton,  Dr.  William  T.  G.,  169. 

Moses,  "the  man  who  wrote  the  first 
geological  essay,"  298. 

Mount  Auburn,  411. 

Mount  Desert,  camp  journey  in,  134- 


472 


INDEX 


135;  252,  253;  report  upon  the 
geology  of,  343. 

Mount-Deserters,  252. 

Mount  Tom,  185. 

Mount  Washington,  a  tramp  over, 
192,  329. 

Mountain  structure,  study  of,  116, 
190,  228,  229;  in  Italy,  307,  312- 
313. 

Miiller,  Max,  262. 

Murchison,  Sir  Roderick  Impey,  let- 
ter to,  249-250. 

Murchison's  "Silurian  System,"  55. 

Museum  of  Comparative  Zoology, 
nucleus  of,  97,  98,  100;  101,  102, 
103,  114,  118,  139,  171,  181,  182, 
186,  225,  247,  248,  250,  251,  258, 
271,  297,  298,  344,  361;  Reports 
of  the  Curator  of  the,  427 ;  437. 

Mystic  River,  202,  204. 

N.,  Sefior,  240,  240-241. 

N ,  298. 

Nahant,  97;  Agassiz's  summer  home 
at,  201,  227;  249. 

Nan  tucket,  258;  report  upon  the 
geology  of,  343 ;  proposed  summer 
school  in,  426. 

Naples,  237,  268;  notes  on,  and  the 
Neapolitans,  319-321;  second  visit 
to,  405,  407. 

Napoleon  III,  237. 

Narragansett  Basin,  110. 

Narragansett  Bay,  110. 

"Narrative  and  Critical  History  of 
America,"  427. 

Nashua,  N.  H.,  398. 

Nashua  River,  10. 

National  Academy  of  Science,  397. 

National  Survey,  a,  249. 

Natural  history,  Shaler's  early  inter- 
est in,  92 ;  93,  98 ;  plans  for  instruc- 
tion of,  298. 

"Natural  History  of  Politics,"  430. 

Nature,  Shaler's  love  of,  350,  354, 
358. 

Nature,  289. 

"Nature  and  Man  in  America,"  427. 


Nautical  Almanac  office,  208. 

Neapolitans,  the,  321. 

"Negro  Problem,  The,"  430. 

Negro-traders,  31,  36,  38. 

Negroes,  of  Sea  Islands,  251.  See 
Slaves  and  slavery. 

"Neighbor,  The,"  217,  427,  435. 

Nemi,  406. 

New  Brunswick,  143,  161. 

New-Brunswickers,  159. 

New  England,  85,  92,  125,  138,  143, 
144,  145,  151,  159,  194,  200,  201, 
224,  262,  282,  348,  362,  368,  378. 

New  England  climate,  348. 

New  England  coast,  205 ;  geology  of, 
283. 

New  England  fishing  ships,  144,  145. 

New  England  sailors,  159. 

New  England  wilds,  138. 

New-Englander,  125, 170,  201-202. 

New  Madrid  earthquakes  of  1811, 
phenomena  connected  with,  re- 
corded by  William  Shaler,  6. 

New  Orleans,  32. 

New  York,  32,  83,  283,  291,  294,  407, 
431. 

Newberry,  John  S.,  227. 

Newport,  Ky.,  3,  12;  characteristics 
of,  before  the  war,  31-32;  39,  54, 
66,  85,  217,  279,  291,  325,  397. 

Newport  barracks,  14,  27,  28,  39,  55, 
57,  59,  174. 

Niagara  Falls,  257. 

Nightingale,  the,  406-407. 

Nile,  the,  403. 

North,  the,  82,  84,  88,  170,  172, 195, 
201,  216,  219. 

North  Adams,  Mass.,  283. 

North  Bend,  O.,  281. 

North  Carolina,  34,  41,  172,  289, 
295. 

Northern  States.   See  North,  the. 

Northerners,  196. 

Northumberland  Channel,  163. 

Norton,  Charles  Eliot,  265 ;  letter  of, 
on  "From  Old  Fields,"  444. 

Norwood,  C.  J.,  277  n. 

Sote-books,   Shaler's,   quoted,   215; 


INDEX 


473 


kept  in  Italy,  302,  318;  on  Vesu- 
vius, 319,  321;  356. 

Notre  Dame  Mountains,  162. 

Nova  Scotia,  142,  143,  144,  164,  334. 

Nova-Scotians,  144,  159. 

Nullification  doctrine,  the,  86 ;  atti- 
tude of  the  men  of  Kentucky  on, 
86. 

Oak  Bluffs,  Martha's  Vineyard,  251- 

252. 
Observatory,  Mitchel's,  55 ;  Harvard, 

121,  208. 
Ohio,  84;  Morgan's  raid  into,  221, 

222,  278. 
Ohio  River,  17,  18,  27,  31,  32,  33,  36, 

50,  54,  55,  59,  84,  88, 192,  220,  229, 

280,  281. 
Ohio  Valley,  17;  geology  of,  54,  139, 

168;  426. 

"Ohio  Cavern  Life,"  289. 
"Old  Daniel,"  negro  slave  exhorter, 

57-58. 

Olympia,  Ky.,  325,  329. 
Open  fireplace,  the,  344,  353,  379. 
"Origin  and  Nature  of  Soils,"  428, 

429. 

"Orphan  Brigade,  The,"  433. 
"Outlines  of  the  Earth's  History," 

427. 

Oxen,  the  Italian  white,  315. 
Oxford,  Eng.,  193,  261-264. 

P.,  Dr.,  211. 

P ,  281,  284,  287. 

P ,  John,  Scotch  gentleman,  long 

resident  in  Naples,  recollections  of, 

320. 

Pacific  Ocean,  122,  297,  334. 
Page,  Rev.  Charles  H.,  218  n. 
Page,  Mrs.  Logan  W.,  409. 
Page,  Sophia  Penn.  See  Shaler,  S.  P. 
Page,  W.  B.,  277  n.,  398. 
Palmer,   George  Herbert,  418,  444, 

445. 
Paris,  231;  Exposition  of  1867,  231; 

visits  to,  236,  237-238,  242,  322. 
Parker,  Judge,  198. 


Parks,  Rev.  Leighton,  434. 

Parsons,  Theophilus,  199. 

Pattison,  Mark,  262. 

Peabody  Museum  of  American  Archae- 
ology and  Ethnology,  97. 

Peach  Orchard,  Ky.,  286. 

Peacock,  Jack,  a  character,  157,  332. 

Pedro,  Dom,  anecdote  of  the  visit  of, 
to  England,  263 ;  298. 

Peirce,  Benjamin,  104;  memories  of, 
113;  188,  190,  191,283. 

Peirce,  Charles  S.,  247,  283. 

Peloponnesus,  405. 

Penikese  Island,  271,  272. 

Pennington  Gap,  295. 

Pennsylvania,  116,  355. 

Perryville,  46. 

Peters,  Dr.,  of  Lexington,  Ky.,  292. 

Phi  Beta  Kappa,  Shaler's  poem  be- 
fore the,  443. 

Philadelphia,  275,  288.  See  Centen- 
nial Exhibition. 

Phillips  Brooks  House,  379,  399. 

Phlegrsean  Fields,  the,  319,  321. 

"Physiography  of  North  America," 
427. 

Pictet,  Francois  Jules,  229. 

Pioneer  life,  tales  of,  84. 

Pioneers,  in  Kentucky,  19;  differ- 
ences between,  in  Kentucky  and 
Ohio,  32;  33,  84. 

Pittsfield,  Mass.,  68. 

Plain  of  Marathon,  356. 

Platte  River,  341. 

Platte  Valley,  296. 

Poems,  reminiscent  of  the  Civil  War, 
221,  222. 

Political  debates  in  Kentucky  be- 
tween 1858  and  1861,  87-88. 

Pompeii,  320,  321. 

"Poor  Whites,"  33,  34,  36,  41. 

Popular  Science  News,  427. 

Porta  Magna,  318. 

Portland,  Me.,  135. 

Powell,  John  W.,  329. 

Powis,  Earl  of,  259. 

Prato,  Italy,  306,  307,  309. 

Prentice,  Courland,  47. 


474 


INDEX 


Prentice,  George  Denison,  47. 
Price,  Bonamy,  193. 
Prince  Edward  Island,  163. 
Prince  Leopold,  263;  observations  of, 

264. 

Prince  of  Wales,  161,  262. 
Princeton,  Ky.,  279,  280. 
Proctor,  John  R.,  277  n.f  288,  294. 
Proctor,  Richard  A.,  257. 
"Professor    Shaler's    Field    Days," 

368-369. 

Proslavery  party  in  Kentucky,  86. 
Province  ports,  fishermen  of,  143. 
Provinces,  the,  144. 
Provincial  sailors,  165;  value  of  "the 

common    man"    found    in    them, 

165. 
Provincials   vs.    "Americans,"    143, 

144. 
Prussian  officers  at  the  Dresden  water 

cure,  239-240. 
Prussian  spies,  Shaler  and  Tawney 

seized  as,  in  a  French  town,  230. 
Purim  Association,  the,  384. 
Puritans  and  Puritanism,  109,  125, 

127,  200,  201,  203. 
Putnam,  Frederick  W.,  97. 
Puy  de  Parion,  237. 
Puy  du  D6me,  237. 

Quaker  stock,  200. 

Quebec,  20. 

Quincy,  Edmund,  112-113. 

Quincy,  Miss  Eliza,  368. 

Quincy,  Mass.,  249,  368. 

Quincy  Street,  Cambridge,  344. 

Quincy  Street  house,  the,  344 ;  mem- 
ories of  the  old  library,  345;  Sun- 
day afternoon  receptions,  345 ;  348, 
359;  hospitalities  to  the  stranger 
in  Cambridge,  363 ;  entertainments 
of  the  natural  history  students, 
380-381;  391,  398;  Shaler's  work- 
room in,  399;  409,  410,  437. 

Quincys,  the,  199. 

R ,  Dr.,  of  Frankfort,  288,  291 

Radcliffe  College,  373. 


Ramsay,  Sir  Andrew  C.,  257. 

Ramsbottom, ,  133-134. 

Raymond,  Rossiter,  338. 

"Recent  Changes  of  Sea-Level  on  the 
Coast  of  Maine,"  289. 

Renivier,  Swiss  geologist,  229. 

Reports,  Geological.  See  Geological 
Reports. 

Reports  of  the  Curator  in  the  Mu- 
seum of  Comparative  Zoology, 
427. 

Republican  party,  219,  242. 

Revere  House,  Boston,  279. 

Revolutionary  War,  4;  a  pensioner 
of  the,  39;  41,  136. 

Rhode  Island,  110. 

Rhone  Valley,  the,  234. 

Richardson,  Dr.  Maurice,  255. 

Richmond,  Va.,  17. 

Ringgold's  Battery,  28. 

Riverton,  Ky.,  279. 

"Road-Building  Stones,"  report  on, 
430. 

Roanoke,  Va.,  326. 

Robinson,  James  F.,  172,  212. 

Rocca  di  Papa,  406. 

Rocky  Mountains,  296,  297,  337,  341, 
342. 

Rodman,  Gen.  Thomas  J.,  175;  his 
experiments  with  great  guns  at 
Fort  Independence,  175-176. 

Rogers,  Henry  D.,  100,  116. 

Rogers,  James,  100. 

Rogers,  William  B.,  104;  debates  of, 
with  Agassiz,  105,  116-117;  quali- 
ties of ,  117;  207. 

Rolleston,  George,  261-262. 

Roman  nightingales,  406-407. 

Rome,  236,  302,  306;  second  visit  to, 
318, 320 ;  third  visit  to,  405 ;  tramps 
into  the  surrounding  country,  406 ; 
407,  429. 

Ross,  Denman,  381. 

Ross,  Eng.,  267. 

Royal  Geographical  Society,  249. 

Royal  Society  of  London,  257. 

Royce,  Josiah,  359,  418. 

"Ruddygore.,"  the  opera,  431. 


INDEX 


475 


Ruskin,  John,  265. 
Ruskin  School  of  Drawing,  265. 
Russell,  Lord  John,  264. 
Russell,  Thomas,  199. 
Russian  Jew  student,  the,  382 ;  hard- 
ships of,  382-383. 

Russian  quarter,  the,  in  Boston,  384. 
Rutland,  Vt.,  326. 

S ,  281. 

Safford's  Geology  of  Tennessee,  289. 

Sag  Harbor,  10,  69. 

St.  Augustine,  Fla.,  330. 

St.  Glair's  defeat,  41. 

St.  John's  Chapel,  Cambridge,  187. 

St.  Lawrence  River,  151. 

Salem,  Mass.,  127,  195. 

Salins,  114,  233. 

Salisbury  Crags,  265. 

Salt  Lake  City,  397-398. 

Salvini,  Tommaso,  182. 

Sanders,  Charles,  179. 

Sanders  Theatre,  179,  250,  443. 

Sanford,  Col.  John,  73. 

San  Giovanni,  Italy,  314,  317. 

San  Jacinto,  battle  of,  10. 

San  Marco,  cabinet  of,  Florence,  314. 

Saratoga,  326. 

Sayles,  Milton,  44. 

Scherer,  fencing-master,  43 ;  Shaler's 
relations  with,  43-44;  anecdotes 
of,  44-46;  51,91. 

Scherer's  school  of  arms,  91. 

"School  Vacations,"  essay,  cited, 
364,  370. 

School  of  Mines,  Freiberg,  243. 

School  of  Mines,  London,  289. 

School  of  Mines,  Paris,  238,  322. 

Scotland,  41 ;  visits  to  geological  lo- 
calities of,  265. 

"Sea  and  Land,"  427. 

Sea  Caves,  145. 

Sea-fowl,  147. 

Sea  Island  district,  geology  of,  251. 

Sea  Island  negroes,  251. 

Secession  and  Secessionists,  82,  86, 
88,  171,  172,  197. 

Sedgwick,  Adam,  259. 


Sedgwick,  Me.,  253. 

Serpentines,  in  Italy,  305,  306,  307. 

Settlers  of  Kentucky,  quality  of,  33. 

"Seven  Gates,"  348,  349;  develop- 
ment of,  351-352;  356;  life  at,  357- 
359;  conversational  "orgies"  at, 
359;  the  house  at,  409. 

Seward,  William  EL,  197. 

Shaler,  Captain,  at  sea  when  a  lad, 
8;  early  master  of  his  own  ship, 
8 ;  merchant  in  New  York  city,  8 ; 
privateer  in  the  War  of  1812,  8; 
his  ship  finally  vanishes  from  the 
sea,  8;  9,  11,  24. 

Shaler,  Ann  Hinde  Southgate,  3,  12; 
forbears  of,  16-21;  description  of, 
21-22;  23,  28,  56,  68,  80;  death  of, 
88 ;  90, 221, 300 ;  Shaler's  letters  to, 
301,  327,  329-331,  419,  420. 

Shaler,  Elizabeth,  199. 

Shaler,  Nathaniel  Burger,  3;  for- 
bears of,  3-11;  description  of,  11- 
16 ;  in  Harvard  College,  12 ;  in  Har- 
vard Medical  School,  12 ;  practising 
physician  in  Havana,  12;  settle- 
ment and  marriage  of,  in  Newport, 
Ky.,  12;  surgeon  at  Newport  Bar- 
racks, 14;  death  of,  15, 16,  300;  18, 
23,  24,  27, 29, 35 ;  views  of,  on  duel- 
ling, 42-43,  46 ;  interest  of,  in  min- 
eralogy, 49,  53-54;  56,  59,  60;  col- 
lege mates  and  friends  of,  68,  112 ; 
69,  88,  90,  140,  182,  209,  217,  224, 
350,  377,  414,  419,  426. 

Shaler,  Nathaniel  Southgate,  birth 
and  birthplace  of,  3 ;  forbears  of,  on 
the  name  side,  in  England,  3;  in 
America,  4;  first  on  the  island  of 
Jamaica,  then  in  Connecticut,  4; 
farmers  with  a  propensity  for 
fighting,  4 ;  great-great-great-grand- 
father quarrying  the  red  sandstone 
of  the  Connecticut  Valley,  4 ;  great- 
grandfather at  Berkenridge  New 
Ferry,  4 ;  in  the  Revolution,  4,8; 
grandfather,  Capt.  Shaler,  sea- 
farer, merchant,  and  privateer,  4, 
8;  great-uncle,  William  Shaler, 


476 


INDEX 


navigator,  scholar,  diplomat,  4, 
5-7 ;  great-aunt,  Abigail  S  til  well,  a 
great  dame,  9-10;  father,  Dr.  Na- 
thaniel Burger  Shaler,  physician  in 
Kentucky,  11-16;  ancestors  on  the 
maternal  side,  the  Southgates,  in 
England  and  in  America,  16;  first 
settled  in  Virginia,  16 ;  great-grand- 
father, Wright  Southgate,  Vir- 
ginia merchant  and  planter,  16; 
grandfather,  Richard  Southgate, 
lawyer,  early  established  in  Ken- 
tucky, 17;  18-19,  21;  grandmo- 
ther, daughter  of  Dr.  John  Hinde, 
surgeon  in  the  British  navy,  a  large 
figure  in  her  time  and  place,  19; 
mother,  Ann  Hinde  Southgate 
Shaler,  21-22;  inheritances  from 
these  ancestors,  23-24;  recollec- 
tions of  childhood,  26-48;  first 
memories,  27 ;  playing  at  war,  28- 
29 ;  fight  with  a  bully,  30-31 ;  pass- 
ing from  childhood  to  youth,  31; 
becomes  an  expert  rifle-shot  and 
fencer,  43;  a  memorable  fencing- 
contest,  44-46;  the  duelling  code, 
46-48 ;  desultory  education,  49-66 ; 
early  interest  in  objects  of  natural 
history,  49,  52,  53;  interest  in 
game-cocks,  50-52 ;  introduction 
to  geology,  53-55;  turned  toward 
astronomy,  55-56;  early  attitude 
toward  religion,  57-58;  awaken- 
ing love  of  nature,  58-59;  formal 
schooling  first  at  the  barracks 
school,  in  Newport,  afterward  with 
a  Swiss  tutor,  59-63 ;  youthful  love 
of  philosophy,  63 ;  first  visits  from 
home,  66-70 ;  a  journey  to  Massa- 
chusetts with  his  father,  68-69; 
first  visits  to  Frankfort  and  impres- 
sions of  it,  71-75;  a  friend  of  his 
youth,  Thomas  F.  Marshall,  77-79; 
a  brief  contact  with  Abraham  Lin- 
coln, 79-80 ;  member  of  a  debating 
society  discussing  States'  Rights, 
86-87 ;  at  Cambridge  under  a  tutor, 
90-92;  first  meeting  with  Agassiz, 


93 ;  becomes  a  pupil  of  Agassiz,  95 ; 
his  examination,  96;  first  work  in 
the  laboratory,  98-100 ;  the  Zoologi- 
cal Club,  103 ;  relations  with  scien- 
tific men  in  Boston  and  Cambridge, 
104-111,  113-117;  some  college 
companions,  118-129;  cruising  and 
camping,  130-133;  geological  ex- 
peditions, 139-169 ;  in  the  Gulf  of 
St.  Lawrence,  139-149;  on  the 
island  of  Anticosti  and  the  Labra- 
dor coast,  150-169 ;  fitting  for  the 
duties  of  a  soldier,  174 ;  at  Fort  In- 
dependence, Boston  Harbor,  174- 
176;  last  year  at  Harvard,  179- 
192 ;  work  and  play  of  student  life, 
179-184 ;  economies  of  the  Southern 
students,  187-188;  examinations 
for  his  degree,  189-192 ;  off  to  the 
war,  207,  210,  211;  in  the  Federal 
service,  captain  of  the  Fifth  Ken- 
tucky Battery,  219-224 ;  return  to 
Cambridge  in  1864,  224;  his  first 
university  appointment,  225 ;  takes 
charge  of  the  regular  instruction  in 
zoology  and  geology  in  the  Law- 
rence Scientific  School,  225;  first 
visit  to  European  scenes  of  geologi- 
cal interest,  226,  228;  walks  and 
talks  abroad,  228-246;  study  of 
mountain  structure  in  the  Alps,  228- 
229 ;  acquaintances  with  Swiss  geo- 
logists, 229,  232 ;  tramps  with  Ed- 
ward Tawney,  English  geologist, 
229-233;  in  Italy,  236-237;  in 
Paris,  237-238;  in  Germany,  238- 
246;  teaching  and  exploring,  247- 
254;  investigations  for  the  United 
States  Geological  Survey  and  the 
Coast  Survey,  247,  249 ;  unearthing 
fossil  remains  of  elephants  at  Big 
Bone  Lick,  247-248;  plans  for  de- 
veloping the  work  at  the  Museum 
of  Comparative  Zoology,  248;  va- 
rious scientific  expeditions,  251, 
253,  254;  abroad  again,  1872-1873, 
255-269;  visits  to  London,  Cam- 
bridge, Oxford,  257-265;  in  Scot- 


INDEX 


477 


land,  visiting  classic  geological  lo- 
calities, 265-266;  in  various  old 
English  places,  266-269;  field 
work,  1873-1879,  270-299;  ap- 
pointed director  of  the  Kentucky 
Geological  Survey,  271 ;  Camp  Har- 
vard, summer  school  at  Cumberland 
Gap,  273,  274-275;  progress  of  the 
survey,  275-278;  letters  written 
during  this  work,  278-282,  284- 
288,  289-296;  on  Coast  Survey 
work  in  New  England,  282-284; 
in  Colorado,  297;  constantly  pro- 
moting the  interests  of  the  Mu- 
seum of  Comparative  Zoology,  297- 
298;  third  visit  to  Europe,  1881-82, 
299-325;  in  Florence,  299;  long 
tramps  for  the  exploration  of  Ital- 
ian geological  localities,  300;  re- 
cord of,  from  notes  kept  while  in 
Italy,  302-321 ;  again  in  Paris  and 
in  England,  322-324;  relations 
with  Gordon  McKay,  327-328; 
urged  to  head  the  United  States 
Geological  Survey,  328;  researches 
on  the  Florida  coast,  321;  mine 
prospecting  and  other  experiences, 
1881-1891,  334-347;  as  a  mining 
expert,  334-340 ;  writing  a  poem  in 
the  intervals  of  his  taxing  profes- 
sional work,  339;  remarkable  out- 
put of  literary  work  and  scientific 
reports,  342-343;  homes  in  Cam- 
bridge, 344-346;  country  living, 
348-360;  on  Martha's  Vineyard, 
348,  351,  356;  life  at  "Seven 
Gates,"  his  "Farm"  there,  349, 
351-359;  his  love  of  landscape, 
355-356 ;  as  the  teacher,  1864-1905, 
361-385;  social  life  of  the  Cam- 
bridge of  the  Eighteen-seventies, 
363 ;  lofty  view  of  the  teacher's  vo- 
cation, 364-365 ;  his  lecture-notes, 
365-366 ;  geological  excursions  with 
his  students,  368-369 ;  establishing 
the  Harvard  Summer  School,  369, 
372;  concerned  in  the  founding  of 
Radcliffe  College,  373;  relations 


with  his  students,  375-378,  382- 
385;  the  "University  Teas,"  379; 
the  Sunday  evening  students'  recep- 
tions at  the  Shalers'  house,  379- 
382;  administrative  work,  1891- 
1903,  386-401;  appointed  dean  of 
the  Lawrence  Scientific  School, 
1891,  386;  large  development  of  it 
under  his  direction,  387;  his  atti- 
tude upon  the  McKay  bequest  and 
the  "merger"  project,  387-390; 
his  active  part  in  faculty  meetings, 
392-396;  work  on  Massachusetts 
State  boards,  396-397;  hard  work 
and  long  journeys,  397-398 ;  Low- 
ell Institute  lectures,  401;  last 
years,  1904-1905,  402-412;  a  "sab- 
batical" abroad,  402;  in  Egypt, 
Greece,  Sicily,  Italy,  402-407;  at 
home  again  and  his  duties  re- 
sumed, 408 ;  closing  of  his  life,  409- 
410;  death  and  burial,  411;  per- 
sonal characteristics,  412-423 ;  na- 
ture and  variety  of  his  literary 
work,  424-442;  his  dramatic  ro- 
mance, "Elizabeth  of  England," 
439-443;  his  last  volume,  "From 
Old  Fields,"  443;  appreciative 
tributes,  443-445. 

Shaler,  Sophia  Penn  Page,  55  n.,  218 
n. ;  letters  to,  quoted,  220  n.,  225, 
443-444,  445;  227,  242;  journal  of, 
quoted,  261-263,  264-265,  266- 
269;  272,  287,  391,  445. 

Shaler,  William,  5;  story  of,  5-7; 
early  master  of  his  own  ship  in 
foreign  trade,  5;  involved  in 
the  French  Revolution,  5 ;  voyage 
about  the  world  with  the  "mer- 
chant-navigator" Cleveland,  5 ;  ad- 
ventures in  South  America,  5;  in 
government  employment,  6 ;  United 
States  consul  at  Algiers,  6;  aids 
the  French  in  the  expedition  against 
Algiers,  7;  consul  at  Havana,  7; 
death  there,  7 ;  his  personality,  8-9 ; 
his  library  in  the  Boston  Public 
Library,  10;  12,  24,  193,  199. 


478 


INDEX 


Shaler,  William,  second,  11. 

Shaler's  battery.  See  Fifth  Kentucky 
Battery. 

Shaler's  journal.  See  Journal,  Sha- 
ler's. 

Shaler's  letters.  See  Letters. 

Shaler's  note-books.  See  Note-books. 

Shayler,  or  Shaylor,  family  in  War- 
wickshire, 3. 

Shaw,  Pauline  Agassiz,  271. 

Shaw,  Quincy  A.,  271. 

Shelbyville,  Ky.,  247. 

Sheridan,  Gen.  Philip  H.,  174. 

Siberia,  the  steamship,  255. 

Sibley,  John  Langdon,  179. 

Sicily,  318,  405;  study  of  .Etna,  405; 
at  Taormina,  406. 

Silk  culture,  domestic,  in  Kentucky, 
83,  84;  in  Italy,  316. 

Silk-manufacture,  in  Kentucky,  83, 
84. 

Silurian  system,  study  of  the,  139, 
150,  152. 

Simons,  Rev.  Mr.,  a  squire-parson, 
256. 

Slave-traders.  See  Negro-traders. 

Slaveholders,  170,  195,  199. 

Slaves  and  slavery,  21,  26,  27,  32,  33, 
34;  theories  of  Kentucky  slave- 
owners, 36 ;  status  of  the  slaves  in 
Southern  households,  36-37;  38, 
57,  80,  82;  fugitive  slaves,  83;  84; 
growth  of  a  proslavery  party,  86 ; 
112,  170,  195,  196,  199,  216,  242, 
349,  362. 

"Sleep  and  Dreams,"  430. 

Small,  Skipper,  140,  141,  143;  the 
skipper  and  the  gulls,  147;  148, 
152,  153,  164. 

Smith,  Gen.  Kirby,  219,  221. 

"Smugglers,  The,"  221. 

Smyth,  Henry  L.,  418. 

Social  systems  in  settlements  on  either 
side  of  the  Ohio,  32-33. 

Somerville,  Mass.,  185,  202. 

South,  the,  82,  84,  87,  155,  170,  173, 
186,  195,  196,  197,  201,  216,  260; 
Shaler's  papers  on,  291. 


South  Carolina,  86. 

South  Park,  Col.,  342. 

Southern  Club,  410. 

Southern  Confederacy,  171,  172, 173, 
212,  433. 

Southern  people,  the,  195. 

Southern  States.   See  South,  the. 

Southern  students  at  Harvard,  195; 
division  between  them  and  the 
Northern  students,  195. 

Southern  sympathizers,  86,  173,  196, 
216. 

Southerners,  170,  187,  196,  219. 

Southgate,  Ann.  See  Shaler,  Ann 
Hinde  Southgate. 

Southgate,  Henry,  21. 

Southgate,  Richard,  of  Virginia,  17; 
at  William  and  Mary  College,  17; 
becomes  a  lawyer  and  moves  to 
Kentucky,  17;  practises  his  pro- 
fession and  amasses  a  fortune,  17; 
death  of ,  17 ;  an  example  of  the  old 
class  of  Virginia  gentlemen,  18;  19, 
21,  23,  35;  treatment  of  his  slaves, 
37-38;  47,  49,  60;  farm  of,  66;  80, 
83,  84;  supposed  to  have  figured 
for  "St.  Clare"  in  "Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin,"  85;  90, 186,  193,  202,  209, 
221,  350. 

Southgate,  Mrs.  Richard,  19;  quali- 
ties of,  19. 

Southgate,  William,  21,  74. 

Southgate,  Wright,  the  emigrant  in 
Virginia,  16;  becomes  a  merchant 
and  planter  there,  16 ;  marries  Miss 
Lush  of  Albany,  N.  Y.,  16;  his 
principal  shops  in  Richmond,  17; 
19. 

Southgate  family,  in  London,  16; 
origin  of  the  name,  16 ;  23 ;  in  Ken- 
tucky, 34. 

Southgate,  town,  50. 

Spain,  241. 

Spanish  Main,  buccaneers  on  the,  23. 

Spiders,  Shaler's  boyish  studies  of, 
49,  96. 

Squam  Lake,  351. 

"Squarson,"  the,  256. 


INDEX 


479 


Stadiums,  the  Harvard  and  the 
Grecian  compared,  405. 

Stage-coaching,  47. 

Stallo,  John  B.,  62. 

"States'-Right"  view,  the,  86,  87, 
171 ;  States'-Rights  group  in  Ken- 
tucky, 173;  174,  211,  219. 

Staunton,  Va.,  326. 

Sterling,  266. 

Stillman  Infirmary,  377. 

Stilwell,  Abigail,  5,  7;  stately  home 
of,  in  Lancaster,  Mass.,  9,  10;  an 
example  of  the  great  dame,  9 ;  her 
family  stories,  9 ;  her  children  and 
grandchildren,  10 ;  11,  68,  193. 

Stilwell,  Elias,  357. 

Stilwell,  Elias  Millard,  10-11. 

Stilwell,  Mr.,  332. 

Stimpson,  William,  97,  104,  127; 
qualities  of,  128-129 ;  130, 132, 133 ; 
incident  of  his  merry  humor,  163- 
164. 

Stone,  Miss,  archaeologist,  405. 

Stone  River,  123. 

Storer,  N.  M.,  397. 

"Story  of  Our  Continent,"  427,  428. 

Stowe,  Harriet  Beecher,  84,  85. 

Stuart,  David,  10. 

Stuart,  Elizabeth  (Stilwell),  10. 

Stuart,  Gen.  James  E.  B.,  74. 

Students'  amusements,  182;  march- 
ing in  gang  to  and  from  the  play 
and  opera  in  Boston,  183 ;  fishing- 
parties  outside  Boston  Harbor, 
183;  a  little  fun  with  the  Boston 
police,  183 ;  revenge  on  a  bore,  184. 

Students'  Reception  Committee,  379. 

Subiaco,  406. 

Sullivan,  Sir  Arthur,  431;  hint  for 
the  plot  of  his  "Ruddygore,"  431. 

Summer  School  of  Geology,  272,  273. 

Summer  School  of  Natural  History, 
272. 

Summer  Schools,  258,  272,  273-275, 
277,  281,  289-290,  294,  295,  369, 
408;  proposed,  426. 

"Summer's  Journey  of  a  Natural- 
ist," 430. 


Sumner,  Charles,  195. 

Sumter,  170. 

Sunday  afternoon  receptions  at  the 
Shalers',  345,  346. 

Sutherland,  Lee,  a  gentleman  vaga- 
bond, 38-39. 

Swamp  lands,  report  on,  429. 

Swiss  guides,  229. 

Switzerland,  travels  and  geological 
explorations  in,  228-229,  231-236 ; 
incidents  of  sojourns  in  remote 
places,  231 ;  target  practice  in  the 
village  of  B.,  231-232;  a  unique 
spectacle  in  Le  Locle,  232-233. 

T ,  Col.,  of  Frankfort,  279. 

T ,  Edward,  293. 

Taliaferro,  Richard,  pioneer,  84. 

Tampa,  Fla.,  330. 

Taormina,  406. 

Tawney,  Edward  B.,  229;  Shaler's 
adventures  with,  230,  231 ;  268. 

Taylor,  Edmund,  71. 

Taylor,  Gen.  Zachary,  88. 

Taylor  family  in  Kentucky,  34. 

Teacher,  Shaler,  the,  361-385. 

Tenantry  in  early  days  of  Kentucky, 
shiftlessness  of,  34-35;  homes  of, 
35. 

Tennessee,  172,  289. 

Tennessee  mountains,  66. 

Tennessee  River,  32. 

Tewkesbury,  Eng.,  266;  the  abbey 
church,  266-267. 

Thompson,  Benjamin,  176. 

Thompson,  Lieut.,  later  Major,  ar- 
tillerist, at  Fort  Independence, 
176;  a  hard  disciplinarian,  176, 
177;  coolness  of  in  action,  177;  the 
"true  type  of  a  soldier,"  178. 

Thompson,  William  H.,  258,  259. 
Thoughts  on  the  Nature  of  Intel- 
lectual Property,"  426. 

Thursday  Club,  417. 

Ticknor,  George,  9,  139,  193 ;  Boston 
home  of,  193,  194,  198;  quality  of, 
194,  197;  199,  200. 

Ticknor,  Mrs.  George,  193. 


480 


INDEX 


Tilden,  Samuel  J.,  291. 

Tilly  Foster  Mine,  293. 

Tisbury,  Mass.,  252,  346,  347. 

Tisburys,  the  English  and  American, 
and  Rudyard  Kipling,  346-347. 

Torrey,  Henry  W.,  185. 

Trading  ports  in  Labrador,  160-161. 

Travers,  Val  de,  289. 

Treat,  Captain,  of  Eastport,  139. 

Treat,  Upton,  sailor,  140. 

Trenton,  N.  J.,  428. 

Trenton  Point,  133,  134. 

Triassic  sandstones,  145. 

Trilobite  bed,  the  only,  in  New  Eng- 
land, 368. 

Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  Eng., 
258,  259. 

Tuscan  guide,  304. 

Tuscan  mountains,  307,  309. 

Tuscany,  garden  region  of,  306; 
tramps  in,  302-318 ;  mountains  of, 
307,  309;  on  Monte  Ferrato,  307, 
308;  in  winter,  307,  309;  310; 
Monte  Morello,  312-313;  314,  315; 
lignite  mines  and  their  working, 
316-317. 

Tyndall,  John,  229,  257. 

Umbagog  Lakes,  135;  sport  at  the, 
136-137. 

"Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  84,  85;  char- 
acters of,  supposed  to  have  been 
drawn  from  Newport,  Ky.,  and  its 
neighborhood,  85 ;  Richard  South- 
gate  pictured  in  St.  Clare,  Legree 
sketched  from  a  neighbor,  85;  the 
incident  of  Eliza's  flight  drawn 
from  an  old  local  tradition,  85; 
195. 

"Underground  Railroad,"  83. 

Union,  the,  82,  87,  88,  142,  172,  173, 
174,  210,  211,  216,  433. 

Union  soldier,  the,  432. 

Unionists,  in  Kentucky,  171,  172, 
173,  197,  432. 

United  States,  32,  73,  91,  157,  159, 
161,  242,  249,  261. 

"United  States,  The,"  427. 


United  States  Coast  Survey,  247, 249, 
270,  271 ;  work  on,  in  New  England, 
282-284;  348;  Reports  upon,  427. 

United  States  Geological  Survey, 
247,  328;  Reports  upon,  343,  426, 
427,  429. 

University  of  Texas,  124. 

University  of  Upsala,  Sweden,  11. 

University  of  Virginia,  194. 

University  Catalogue,  the,  387. 

University  Hall,  344,  437. 

University  Press,  187. 

"University  Teas,  The,"  379,  399. 

Ursuline  convent,  202,  203-204. 

"Use  of  Numbers  in  Society,"  430. 

Vacation  schools,  369,  370. 

Val  d'Arno,  314,  317,  356. 

"Valor,"  427,  443. 

Vanceburg,  Ky.,  284. 

Vaughan,  teacher  in  the  Newport 
Barracks  school,  55;  anecdotes  of, 
55  n.\  56. 

Verrill,  A.  E.,  97,  139. 

Versailles,  Ky.,  79. 

Vesuvius,  237,  318;  notes  on  the 
ascent  of,  319-320;  321;  a  farewell 
view  of,  407. 

Via  Romana,  309. 

Vicenza,  237. 

Victoria,  Queen,  264. 

Vienna,  240. 

Villas,  Italian.  See  Italian  villas. 

Vineyard  Sound,  354-355. 

Virginia,  16;  colonists  of  Kentucky 
from,  19,  34,  84;  Virginia  system 
of  land  grants  inherited  by  Ken- 
tucky, 32;  36,  41,  66, 116, 172, 195, 
218  n. ;  253,  254,  260 ;  293, 369,  398. 

Virginia  mountains,  326. 

Virginia  oyster,  the,  168. 

Volcanoes,  extinct,  studying  the  phe- 
nomena of,  237. 

Waggener,  Leslie,  121;  a  story  of, 
after  the  Civil  War,  123-124; 
president  of  the  University  of 
Texas,  124;  208. 


INDEX 


481 


Walcott,  Dr.  Henry  P.,  343. 

Walks,  in  the  country  about  Boston, 
201-205,  368-369;  along  the  sea- 
shore, 205;  abroad,  228;  among 
the  Alps,  229;  through  a  part  of 
the  Rhone  Valley,  234 ;  out  on  the 
Campagna,  236;  in  Italian  towns, 
236-237;  in  England,  255;  in  and 
about  Florence,  299-300;  from 
Florence  to  Impruneta,  302-304; 
305-306 ;  between  Prato  and  Monte 
Ferrato,  306-309;  about  Martha's 
Vineyard,  353,  358, 360 ;  399 ;  in  the 
country  about  Rome,  406 ;  413. 

Wallace,  Alfred  Russel,  186. 

Wallace,  Col.  Lew,  220. 

Waltham,  Mass.,  232. 

War  Department,  277,  278. 

War  of  1812,  Capt.  Shaler  a  privateer 
in,  8;  41. 

Warren,  Dr.  John  Collins,  12,  53. 

Warwickshire,  Eng.,  ancestors  of 
Shaler  there,  3. 

Washington,  D.  C.,  163,  329. 

Water  cure  at  Dresden,  238;  ac- 
quaintances made  in,  239-240. 

"  Way  with  the  Mutineers,  The,"  222. 

Webb,  Mrs.  Willoughby  L.,  409. 

Welsh,  German  drawing-master,  58. 

Wendell,  Barrett,  memories  of  Shaler 
in  the  Harvard  faculty,  392-395. 

Werner,  Abraham  Gottlob,  243. 

West,  Benjamin,  20. 

West  Point,  10,  90. 

Westmorly  Hall,  254,  344. 

Weymouth  River,  368. 

Wheatland,  Richard,  97,  127-128. 

Wheeler,  Gen.  Joseph,  74. 

Whigs,  82. 

Whitby,  Eng.,  268. 


White  Mountains,  a  tramp  over  Mt. 
Washington,  192 ;  329. 

White  Sulphur  Springs,  Va.,  expe- 
dition from  Cambridge  to,  253 ;  254, 
329. 

Whitney,  Josiah  D  wight,  227. 

Whittier,  John  G.,  195. 

Willard,  Ky.,  286. 

William  and  Mary  College,  17. 

Winlock,  Joseph,  247. 

Winsor,  Justin,  343,  426,  427. 

Wolff,  John  Eliot,  418. 

Woodworth,  Jay  B.,  418. 

World's  Work,  The,  quoted,  367. 

Wright,  Chauncey,  283. 

Wye,  the  river,  267. 

Wyman,  Jeffries,  104;  characteriza- 
tion of,  105-107;  109,  111,  189, 
190,  208. 

Wyman,  Dr.  Merrill,  107;  character- 
ization of,  107-109. 

Wyman,  Rufus,  qualities  of,  109. 

"X,"  a  collaborator  of  Agassiz,  114. 

Yankee,  the,  of  caricature,  85 ;  Yan- 
kee life,  128;  143,  144. 
York  Cathedral,  267-268. 

Zermatt,  234. 

Zoological  Club,  102,  103,  116,  119, 

120,  186,  204. 
Zoological  Garden,  Dresden,  241. 
Zoological  Hall,  102,  106,  119,  120, 

186. 
Zoological  Museum.    See  Museum  of 

Comparative  Zoology. 
Zoology,  studies  in,   100,   101,  111, 

117, 127;  Shaler  instructor  in,  225; 

275,  297. 


CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
U    .    S    .   A 


RETURN     EARTH  SCIENCES  LIBRARY 

TO—  ^      230  McCone  Hall               642-2997 

LOAN  PERIOD  1 
1  MONTH 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

ALL  BOOKS  MAY  BE  RECALLED  AFTER  7  DAYS 

Books  needed  for  class  reserve  are  subject  to  immediate  recal 

DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 


FORM  NO.  DD8 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BERKELEY 
BERKELEY,  CA  94720 


/ 


U.C.BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


i 


